Place Your Bets
by vanillabeans
Summary: Collaboration with KatieBelleCullen - Manwhore Edward bets Emmett that he can remain abstinent for 40 days and nights;that was before the vixen Bella moved to Forks and set her sights on the delectable Edward Cullen. AU/OOC. M for EXTREME SMUT/PROFANITY
1. The Bet

**A/N: EPOV will be written by me, vanillabeans, while BPOV will be written by the amazing, the talented, the genius, KatieBelleCullen. In the cases of other perspectives, we'll leave a note of who's doing the writing. Since this is a collaborative effort, the same exact story will appear on KatieBelleCullen's profile – we're writing it together. I didn't steal her story, and she didn't steal mine. This is my first Twilight fic, though not hers, (read her story "Warmth" – it's smutty and delicious!) and both of our collaborative firsts. So please, if you dig it, leave us a review and let us know. Please and thank you, my lovelies :)  
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**Also, and much to our dismay, neither KatieBelleCullen or I own Twilight or any of its characters. We just help them get drunk and very possibly naked. ;)**

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This story is rated M for EXTREMELY foul language, and EXTREMELY EXPLICIT smut. You've been warned. If you don't like it, move on. The rest of you degenerate perverts (and you know you are, you hornballs!), welcome home! Enjoy :) **

**Over and out,**

**-V.**

* * *

EPOV

"Mmm. Edward, I miss you," she breathed.

I held my cell phone propped between my ear and shoulder as I flopped down on my bed, half sitting and half lying against the headboard. Jessica Stanley's stupid ass was talking my god damned ear off, but I was planning on fucking her for the fourth time in as many days tomorrow, so I might as well put up with some of her shit. I flipped idly through the stack of CD's sitting on my nightstand.

"Oh yeah?" Huh. Look at that. This Smiths CD was a fucking classic. Note to self: jam this bitch sometime soon.

"Ohhh yeah. Definitely," she half spoke, half purred at me. Could this bitch _try_ any harder to be sexy? Jesus fuck, she's boring.

"What are you wearing, Jessica?" Hey look, The Clash. This might just take precedent over that Smiths CD. I should go drink some Jack and smoke out with this shit playing.

"Oh, Edward!" she giggled. "You're so naughty!" Cue irritating giggle again. "Hmm, well I _guess_ I'll tell you." And again with that god damned nasal whine-snort. "It's a lacy little black thing. I got it from Victoria's Secret!"

I could tell she wanted me to be impressed. These small town whores thought anything outside JC Penny's was fucking status. I rolled my eyes and wondered if I sounded as absent to her as I did to myself.

"Tell me about it." What the fuck? Who scratched my UnderOath CD? God damn you, Jasper. I vaguely registered this dumb bitch still talking in my ear, punctuating her stale drivel with what she probably thought were sexy, breathy, moans. Mostly it just sounded like she was forty pounds overweight and on a fucking Stairmaster. Where do I find these broads?

I didn't bother to try to comprehend what she was saying. I'd just end up losing precious IQ points, anyway. I cut her off quickly, "Jessica. Stop."

She stammered a little when she spoke, unsure of where I was going with this. "O-okay, Edward? Do you n-not like it?"

"No, it's fine." _Ugh. _"Jessica, what are you doing right now?"

"Uh. I mean, um, just, talking to you?"

This simple bitch. Wow. "No, Jessica, with your hands. What are you doing with your hands?"

"Um, I'm holding the phone?" She was timid and unsure, clearly wanting to please me, but confused as to what it was I wanted. Jesus, for such a slut, she sure is fucking clueless.

"Are you listening, Jessica?" Without waiting for her to respond, I continued, "Good. Grab your tits. Hard. Are you doing it, Jessica?"

"Yes, baby, I am." She sounded shocked and excited. Figures the slut would be down for this shit. Mental note: tell her to lay off that "baby" shit.

"Pull on your nipples. Hard. Now take your right hand, and run it up your thigh. That's right. Good. Now open your legs and touch your pussy."

She squealed in delight on the other end of the phone, and I could hear her excitement picking up as the risqué factor elevated.

"Mmmhhhm, oh, Edward. Mmm, now what?"

She takes orders well, that's a fucking plus. At least I don't have to waste time wooing this stupid trick. "Pinch your clit. Roll it between your fingers. Rub it."

She moaned loudly as she obeyed me. I tossed the CD's down as I heard her get more and more into it. I lay back and stared at my ceiling as I listened to this bitch finger fuck herself and wondered when every chick I knew ceased to be appealing.

"Edward," she moaned. "Are you touching yourself, too?" she asked tentatively.

I rolled my eyes, _again_, and with my hands behind my head, sighed as I counted the slats in my ceiling's air conditioning vent. "Yeah, Jessica, I am. Keep fingering yourself."

She continued following orders like a good little sheep and I actually heard her fingers pump in and out of her pussy.

I concentrated on putting Alexis Bledel's face over Jessica's. Something about that peaches and cream shit just gets me cockhard every time – fake tan makes me physically fucking ill. Too bad she doesn't have brown eyes though. Those big Bambi eyes looking up at me during a blow job would be fucking epic. Picturing that girl touching herself for me instead of Jessica was actually giving me a semi. All right, progress.

I was vaguely considering taking my cock out when my door burst open and smacked loudly into the wall. Hadn't I locked that shit?

My obnoxious, overzealous, and apparently, completely fucking door-knocking-incapable best friend, Jasper Whitlock, barreled into my room, tripping over his own feet and laughing.

"CULLEN!" he yelled out with a fist raised to me. "You suave motherfucker! Get your bitch ass up, we're going to Alice's!"

He jumped toward me and landed a kidney shot before I was able to maneuver out of the way. Drunk Jasper was a fucking force to be reckoned with. I never knew how that bastard could keep his coordination when tanked, and he was _smashed_.

I heard Jessica squeal something about coming soon when I abruptly stopped her. "Yo, Jessica, gotta go. See ya."

I shoved my phone in my pocket as I glided sideways to avoid another blow from Jasper. He'd built up too much momentum lunging for me, and when I managed to avoid contact, he had nothing to break his fall. He went tumbling ass over elbows and landed on my hardwood floor with a loud ass _thunk_. He grinned up at me with all that stupid shaggy hair in his eyes.

"Well get your keys, bitch, I'm plowed!"

I laughed at his semi-retarded antics, grabbed his hand and pulled him up as he followed me out the door.

* * *

It was another typical night at Alice's house. She and Jasper had been together for a while now, and while they were completely different, they were fucked in half in love with each other. I never would have pictured it. That tiny little girl barely cleared Jasper's shoulder, and that was only when she did that spiky thing with her hair. She had black hair and eyes, was tiny and pale, while Jasper was almost as tall as me, and all American tan, blond, and blue-eyed. They were apples and fucking oranges. _Okay_, I amended as I watched Alice practically dry hump Jasper on the couch, _horny ass apples and oranges_. They were cute. In a late night Cinemax kind of way.

My other best friend, the gargantuan and perpetually eleven-year-old Emmett McCarty and his chick, the fuckalicious Rosalie Hale were on the opposite couch, bickering, like always. Her feet were in his lap while he rubbed them gently, the whole time calling her a frigid cunt with an attitude problem.

From the floor where I was sprawled out with my head resting on a probably-cost-four-hundred-dollar silk decorator pillow, I called out to Alice, "Yo, Brandon. Where the fuck are your parents?"

Still moving her tiny little hips back and forth over Jasper's tented lap, she spoke without turning around. "Well… mm, Jas… mom's probably blowing her plastic surgeon for a face lift, and my dad is… yeah, right there… most likely fucking his secretary and clocking the hours to pay for my mom's next tit job." She tilted her head to the other side to let Jasper suck the skin there instead – her right side was probably pruny by now.

I laughed – her parents were just as fucking dysfunctional as the rest of ours.

It was a Sunday night, and we were doing what we always did on Sunday nights – recover from a weekend of nonstop booze, the occasional illicit substance, and the always-present sexual debauchery that made up our free time.

My phone trilled again and I briefly thought about throwing it before I remembered it would be my fourth iPhone this month, and chances are, I'd have to wait till the fucking weekend to get a new one if I broke this bitch. Fucking unacceptable.

Having a perpetually broken inside-voice, Emmett boomed from across the room, "Cullen! What the fuck is up with your phone? That bitch hasn't shut up all night. You workin' a fuckin' telethon over there or what?"

Before I could answer, Jasper, that fucking traitor, spoke for me, from between Alice's tits.

"Nah, Emmett. He's a fucking phone sex hot line. Phone boning fuckin' Jessica Stanley on the regular."

That son of a bitch had been listening. Hah, five points for Jasper. I would have done the same shit.

Emmett laughed loudly while Rosalie made a disgusted face and half-kicked, half-nudged him with her pretty left foot.

"You pig! Don't fucking encourage that shit."

Emmett eyed her incredulously. "Rosie. You cannot be fucking serious. I phone fucked you every night when you were on vacation. How the shit else would I keep it in my pants with you gone?"

She laughed and almost looked sheepish. Well, if sheepish were an emotion Rosalie Hale were capable of having.

She grinned and put her left foot back fully on Emmett's lap and smirked conspiratorially. She arched one perfect eyebrow and said, "I just meant not to encourage phone fucking an _ugly_ bitch."

All four of those backstabbing motherfuckers let out a loud chorus of "OHHH!" and "BUUUURRRN!"

Well, shit. Ten points for Rosalie.

Emmett wiped a god damn invisible tear from his eye. "My woman just burned the shit out of Cullen. I don't think I've ever been prouder. Rosie, I love the shit out of you, you cold-hearted bitch."

They made kissy faces at each other while I chucked the expensive pillow right into Emmett's leftover pizza, sitting in the middle of the coffee table.

I laughed, "Fuck every last one of you, cuz that bitch can suck a dick."

A round of agreement went up from Jasper and Emmett, only to be met with slaps and nipple-twisters from their, hah, better halves.

I hopped up off the floor and walked barefoot toward the kitchen, leaving the lovely couples to their disputes. I heard a muffled "Dirty son of a bitchin' rat bastard" as I opened the fridge. Damn, that little Alice had a mouth on her. Fucking sexy.

I yelled back toward the living room as I rustled around in the fridge, "Which one of you drunk fucks wants another beer?"

I heard a chorus of assent from the other room, and I loaded up my left arm with Coronas as I walked back into the den. I handed the bottles out and used the distraction to snatch the remote from Rosalie.

"Hey you prick! Give it back!"

Emmett poked her in the side and told her to quit being such a god damned douche nozzle. I love his colorful language.

"Eat it, Rosalie."

Emmett turned his giant dinosaur head my direction and said tersely, "Watch your fuckin' mouth when you talk to my woman, asshole."

I couldn't help but laugh. Those two were the most fucked up pair I'd ever seen. They fit like puzzle pieces though. Really crooked, dysfunctional, angry, monkey-sexin puzzle pieces.

Finding nothing on TV, I tossed the remote back to Rosalie and occupied myself by seeing how much of the Corona I could drink in one swig.

I stopped when I noticed what was on the screen. "Rose, what the shit is this? Josh Hartnett's a twat. He's more than a twat. He's a twat _waffle_."

"Shutup, Edward. He's sexy. And you could learn something from his control."

"His _control_, Rose? Please. You can't keep your hands off Emmett's cock long enough to sit through this stupid movie. And even if you could, it's a fucking movie. _40 Days & 40 Nights _ doesn't really apply to his life, you know."

Turning so that her tits were directly in front of Jasper's all-too-obliging mouth, Alice turned toward me. "Edward, whether or not it's directly… shit, Jas!... his life, it's still impossible for you. You fuck somebody new every day." She giggled as she turned back to Jasper, who was currently biting her nipples through her shirt.

Screw these assholes. That wasn't true. Entirely. "Fuck you guys. I fuck some chicks more than once. I'm a god damned hero, I fucking _recycle_."

Rosalie giggled while Emmett tickled her feet. "Edward, how often do you get laid? Not even counting getting head."

I thought about it, tried to do the math. Fuck math, I hate math. I'm a god at it, like everything else, but I still fucking hate it. "Uh, daily probably."

She rolled her eyes and sighed, "Seriously, at least daily. Sometimes more than one chick a day, you dirty fuck. You could never give up sex."

I shook my head and chuckled at her. Clearly, they were underestimating me. Fucking GOD, remember? "Sure I could. I wouldn't because, uh, fucking _why? _But I could if I wanted to."

Dropping Alice's perky and ever-entertaining tits from his mouth, Jasper said, "Bullshit, Cullen. You love pussy too much. The only thing you love more than pussy is that stupid car."

Is it true? Well. Yeah, I think it actually is. Hah. That's fucking new. "Well, Jas, that's because my car is perpetually exciting. Maybe if all the boring ass in this town were capable of sounding half as good as my car, that wouldn't be the case. But I have better conversations with the fucking Volvo than these dumb bitches." I pointed to my phone as it beeped again. _DAMN, _would these broads ever quit calling me for dick?

Emmett laughed and shook his head. "You're wrong Jas. He loves pussy more than ANYTHING. I'll fucking prove it."

I eyed Emmett warily and said, "Listen you big fuck, I always thought you were packin', but if you're hiding a cooch over there, I don't need to know about it."

He flipped me the bird and kept speaking, still with a grin on his face, completely unfazed. That jovial bastard. "Shutup Cullen. I bet you couldn't give up pussy if it meant keeping your car. And that's a serious bet."

Rosalie picked up her head from where it had fallen backward on the couch. Alice quit rocking on Jasper's cock and turned to face me with raised eyebrows. Jasper actually took his mouth off Alice's tits and leaned around her to look at me with eyes that, for Jasper, almost looked interested.

I rolled the idea around in my mind. Getting some ass, or my car? Fuck. I do love getting laid, but god damn do I love that car. Fuck it. There's no good pussy in this town that I haven't been in a hundred times anyway, and that shit would still be waiting when the bet was over.

"McCarty, what the fuck do you have that's worth putting up against my sexy ass Volvo for when you lose?"

"Hey, hey, hey. It's _if_, I lose, asshole, and I won't. And if I do, you can have the Jeep."

I considered briefly. That bitch was fun to go offroading in. But it was too jacked up. I didn't need to compensate for my dick with big tires. I could probably sell that shit off piece by piece, make a helluva profit, and make Emmett weep in the process. God damn, I'm in.

"Okay, bitch, for how long?"

"Not to be cliché or anything, Eddie, but I'm thinking forty days and forty nights sounds good."

A little over a month with no pussy? Fuck. I hadn't gone that long without getting laid since… shit. Since, well, ever. This should be interesting.

No sex, for forty days, and I'll get a god damned tricked out Jeep for forgoing the unexciting ass that I've fucked a million times anyway. Too easy.

I reached forward to take Emmett's bear claw of a hand.

"Deal, McCarty. Motherfucking deal."

He shook back and grinned, clearly thinking I was the sucker. We'll see, asshole. We'll see.

* * *

**Ruh-roh! What has our little hornball gotten himself into? Hahaha! And how will our darling Edward fare at school tomorrow, as the first of a LONG forty days? I wonder if he'll meet anyone… **_**interesting.**_** Leave a review, darlings. ;)**

**Also, the title "Place Your Bets" is a working title, that neither Katie nor myself are completely in love with. So we've decided to ask you genius readers what you'd like to see it called. So send us your ideas, and the winner will get the next unposted chapter early. ;)**


	2. Game On

**Much to our dismay, neither KatieBelleCullen nor I own Twilight. We just took the liberty of taking SM's characters and saucing them up a bit! XD**

**Here's my genius, stunning, fabulous partner-in-crime Katie's chapter - it's freaking EXCELLENT! Her saucy sex kitten Bella is to die for! So enjoy lovelies, because it is with great pleasure that I present to you: BPOV!**

* * *

BPOV:

Forks High School.

God, what a filthy fucking cesspool.

The never-ending rain beat down on the insignificant brick buildings, sloshing sloppily over the dreary scene. And that's exactly what this shithole of a town _was_. Dreary. As hoards of dull, black raincoats scampered towards shelter, a lump began to rise in my throat. Where was the style? The sense of adventure? Did _anyone_ in this godforsaken shitpit know how to have a good time? Of course not, I groaned. How could they? There was nothing to _do_ here! I sighed in defeat. Whatever threads of hope I had been clinging to since arriving in this murky puddle abruptly snapped, sending me plummeting into a dejected gloom. This was going to be a long, god-awful semester. And a half. Fuck. Me.

_Fuck_. _Renee_.

I forcibly pushed my way out of the hunkajunk that my father, Charlie, had bought for me, pointedly ignoring the disgusting, metallic groan of the door as I slid my long legs out of the seat, letting my heels tap gently against the ground. As my eyes surveyed the pitiful excuse for a school, I let out another long, exasperated sigh. I was already mentally ticking down the seconds until my 18th birthday, the day of all days, when I would be officially able to get the fuck out of Forks. With a frown, I slammed the rusted door to my Chevy and glanced down at my schedule. English. Okay.

With a determined shake of my hair, I started towards the tiny English building, letting the heels of my Jimmy Choo's click comfortingly against the slick asphalt. I clucked in disgust as rain continued to pour from the sky, and sped up my pace towards the dingy, brick building that loomed before me. I grit my teeth as I entered the throng of black jackets, which seemed to sully my elegant, white lambswool coat, just by association. Miscellaneous nobodies in all their varying stages of pitiful turned to gawk in my direction, but I kept a sultry smile on my face as I fought the urge to roll my eyes. _Fucking morons_. It wasn't that I was uncomfortable with attention - I loved a spotlight as much as any other girl with full, pouty lips and a gorgeous set of tits. It was the _way_ they stared that bothered me - as if I had walked in with three eyes and webbed feet. _It's called class, dipshits_.

I was already thoroughly annoyed by the time I reached my home room, and I forced myself to take a steadying breath as I wrapped my perfectly manicured fingers around the door handle. _Well, here goes fucking nothing_.

First class: English.

Everyone stared. _Good_, I thought, _they should_. I may have been the new girl, but I was no fucking spring chicken. I had seen more than these pathetic little shits could ever dream of, and I put on a face that made them damn sure aware of it. I strutted my way up to the teacher's desk, leaning forward more than was really necessary to hand him my schedule. With a ridiculous squeak, he stamped my paper, then passed it back to me, waving his hand vaguely towards the rows of desks, urging my fine ass to take a seat. Class went well, fucking boring, but well. That is, until the very end, when disaster struck.

The bell had barely rang when Tyler Crowley, obvious resident geek - complete with coke-bottle glasses, for Christ's sake - hopped right up on my shit. He spent five solid minutes asking my tits about our schedule, our life interests, hopes, and dreams, before I finally pushed right past his sorry ass. Bleh. This kid needed a swift kick in the balls, and I would have given it to him, if I wasn't so sure his fucking hand would get in the way. Jack off. But as I stormed down the hall towards my next class, I wasn't able to completely block the tiny voice that was steadily rising in the back of my mind. The voice that couldn't help but wonder. . .is this all I would get in godforsaken Forks?

As I stamped defiantly towards my second circle of hell, a ray of sunshine burst through the fog of my despair, taking the form of a golden-haired man, slinking my way. _Fucking finally_, I thought. The guy was tall - probably pushing over six feet - with a disheveled mop of shaggy blonde hair, stunning blue eyes, and a relaxed, easy smile. I didn't normally go for the surfer, stoner types, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and this guy wasn't half bad. Definitely doable. I swivelled towards him, sly smile in place, but my hopes were immediately dashed when surfer boy continued onward, shooting me one, furtive glance before ducking his head and passing me at full speed. Son of a bitch - I knew that look. Surfer boy was taken. _God fucking dammit_. It made sense, though. Even in this sort of town, with a population of three and a fucking half, a guy like that was _never_ single. I watched with a calculating look as the only decent meat I had seen so far hauled ass around the corner, disappearing from my sight. _Oh well_, I shrugged, _no biggie_. It had been a while since I'd had a good chase, anyway. If, by the end of the day, there was no other lickable dick to be found, surfer boy would have to watch his back. Bella Swan would not be denied, girlfriend or no. I smirked as I found my next class, and held my perfect nose high as I sashayed through the door.

Second class: History

All eyes instantly locked on me. Same old, same old. With my killer bust and legs forever, who _wouldn't_ look? I made a show of stretching myself against the desk once I was seated, letting my legs extend beautifully while I arched my back. Most of the girls, including two ridiculous bimbos with fake tans and over-processed hair, eyed me with despair. _That's right, bitches_. _Bella_. _Swan_. History, if possible, was even more boring than English, and I busied myself by eye-surfing the classroom. _Fuck you_._ Fuck you. Fuck _you. . .Wait_, turn around_. . . . . ._Ugh_!_ Fuck you_._ Fuck you_. . .After a few minutes, I nearly choked with disgust. Was there something in the water here?

Class finally ended, and I stood quickly in relief, ready to move forward to whatever bullshit it was that would take up the next hour of my life. I started towards the nearest exit, but was promptly blocked by a weasely little turd named Eric Yorkie. He appeared out of nowhere, nasty little fucker, with oily hair and acne that went on for miles. In addition to blocking my escape, he proceeded to dry hump my leg until by the grace of God, the dumbfuck teacher finally called him to his desk, causing Yorkie pup to scurry away, tail tucked between his legs.

Yep. A long. Fucking. Semester.

I didn't give a shit about the subject matter of any of my classes - I was in advanced placement back in Phoenix, otherwise known as The Real World, which made Forks material look like fucking nursery rhymes. Dejectedly, I snatched my blackberry from my purse, quickly typing in a message to my long-time friend, Sandy, who was lucky enough to still be in Phoenix. Bitch.

_Shoot_._ Me_._ Fucking_._ Now_.

Sandy responded immediately, like I knew she would.

_Come on, it can't be that fuckin bad_.

Wanna bet?

_My truck is ancient_._ My school is a clusterfuck of outhouses_._ There is no dick to be seen_.

I'm screwed.

_Oh, come on,_ was the disbelieving reply. _This ain't a fuckin catholic school, am I right_?

I didn't bother to respond to that one. It might as well have been.

_Don't stress, there's always that one guy on campus that can fuck like Nick on coke_._ You just gotta find him_.

A reminiscent smile crossed my face as I remembered Nick. – all star football player, and fuck god extraordinaire. That boy knew how to lay it, no questions asked. But my smile quickly faded back to a scowl as annoying raindrops began to pelter against the rooftop again, reminding me exactly of where I was.

_Yeah_._ Fat fucking chance_. I answered

She knew me better than to respond.

With a sigh, I dug my schedule out of my bag, already jonesing for sun, warmth, and guys who could fuck. The crumpled piece of paper in my palm revealed Biology to be my third torture tactic of the day. _Well, let's get this bullshit over with_.

On the way, Eric fuckin Yorkie caught sight of me, and yipped at the heels of my Jimmy Choo's all the way to class. This had to be some kind of sick fuckin joke. Any minute now, I would wake up, back in sunny Phoenix. Any minute now. . .

Another pathetic yelp from Yorkie shook me from my moment of hope, and I scowled murderously as I turned towards the door of my next class.

It was settled, then. I was going to have to invest in a vibrator.

Third class: Biology.

I pulled the heavy door open with full force, sighing regrettably when it didn't squash the York under it's ten-ton weight. With a last, lethal leer at the Pup, I turned to face the next pitiful pile of small-town shit-on-my-Choo's.

And then I froze.

He was sitting in the back, left corner of the classroom, dressed in a white, button-down shirt that perfectly outlined the square shape of his strong, sturdy pecs. His long, masculine legs jutted out from the pathetically undersized plywood desk, making the damn thing look like nothing more than a child's toy. His bronze hair stood in wild, sexy disarray, looking alluringly disheveled as a few loose tendrils hung in haphazard, uneven lengths across one side of his smooth forehead. His jaw was square and strong, with a surprising amount of stubble for a high school student at lunchtime. He had his lean, toned arms stretched above his head, bent at the elbows so that his long fingers cradled the back of his head. But it was his deep, piercing, downright wicked, emerald eyes that made me momentarily weak in the knees.

His intense stare caused my body burn with delight as I imagined those deep eyes burning into mine as I raked my fingers through his luscious, copper hair. I saw my body, entwined passionately in his as we moved and rolled across midnight blue sheets. I heard him growl with fierce and wild passion as he pounded relentlessly into my soaking pussy, and I imagined the feel of his dick pulsing inside me as he came. I wanted to taste him, bite him, ride him until he exploded inside of me. An astounding assortment of lascivious images continued to assault my mind, spinning like a movie reel before my eyes until I was interrupted by some asshole, coughing sickeningly on the back of my neck. Reality swiftly caught up with me, effectively ending my erotic daydreaming as I turned to sneer at the slimy prick behind me. As the little shit practically ran to his desk, I shook my head, clearing my mind of the surprisingly lurid fantasies involving the man with the wicked green eyes. _Fuck surfer boy_. This guy was 100 man, and I was going to make him 100 mine. I looked again towards the head of unruly bronze hair as I began to strut confidently down the isle, parading my sexy ass right towards the empty seat beside him. As I sat, I made sure to bend my body just right, giving him a fantastic cleavage shot, then arching my back as I turned to give him a full-on view of my perfect, curvy ass. After adding my signature Bella move of tossing my long, mahogany hair behind my shoulder, I glanced over at him, a coy smile playing on my full, glossy lips.

And my jaw hit the floor.

This motherfucker wasn't even_ looking _at me. Not even a sly corner glance! Nothing at all! I was immediately pissed. Who the fuck did this guy think he was, ignoring me like I was some plate of chopped fucking liver? Oh, _hell_ no. I would show him.

Class started, and I immediately launched into my sexy scene. I crossed my legs in his direction, flaunting my long, shapely legs. At my first available opportunity, I raised my hand for an answer, purposely jutting out my breasts and answering in my best sultry, breathy voice. All through the class period, I saw the vision next to me clenching and unclenching his fists, looking everywhere but at me. Did he really find me so disgusting that he couldn't bear to look in my direction? I quickly surveyed the rest of the classroom. Sure enough, every male within the vicinity was panting at me, tongue out, drool dripping. That's right, assholes. I am Bella. Fucking. Swan. Whatever this guy's problem was, he was gonna get over it - fast. Cuz I had my eyes set on him.

And no man. Ever. Refused. Me.

All too soon, the dismissing bell rang through the air, and I watched in near horror as the object of my desire practically ran from the room. What the fuck was that about? Never once had I been so blatantly ignored. Every other guy that I had ever deemed worthy of my time had been eating out of the palm of my dainty little hand within a millisecond. And here I was, pulling out all the stops, and this motherfucker doesn't offer so much as a glance? Fiery determination pulsed through my veins as I realized what my next move would be. I would _make_ that man fall for me. I would _not_ take no for an answer. I stood up, taking time to carefully straighten my jacket and smooth down my silky hair. I was going to seduce the beautiful boy with the sexy green eyes - I was dead set on it.

As I strode towards my next class, two words rang clearly through my mind, echoing in time with every click of my heels, each swish of my delicious hips.

_Game_. _On_.

* * *

**Yep, that's right. The game is on, and the fun has officially been set in motion! Hell yeah! ;D **

**I don't know about y'all, but I'm just **_**dying**_** to know what Edward thought of sex kitten Bella. I wonder. . .could chapter 3 have **_**possibly**_** been written yet? Show us some love if you want to find out!!**


	3. Aces High

**V here! Woo! So who LOVED that saucy Bella that Katie managed to cook up?! I did!! I wonder if our dear sweet manwhore Edward felt the same... Let's see, shall we? As always, all things Twilight belong to SM. Katie and I are just helping them relieve - or is it create - some sexual tension? Haha! Leave the love, my behbehs!  
**

**PS - Katie's gotten a billion reviews, and I've gotten ONE. And it was from someone who DIDN'T like the story! Come on now people, you're hurting my feelers! Vanillabeans needs the lovin' too, you know!**

**Over and out, **

**V.**

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EPOV

Monday morning I awoke to the obnoxious sound of my phone receiving another text message. Christ. I looked at my alarm clock and tried to make out the glowing numbers through bleary eyes. The fuck does that say? 6:29. Who texts people at the ass crack of dawn any god damn way?

I grabbed my cell off my nightstand, and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, was shocked to read the display:

_14 New Text Messages_.

Son of a bitch. You cannot be serious.

I looked at my inbox and saw they were all from that dumb whore, Jessica Stanley. Wow, she's a special kind of cock hungry, isn't she?

I opened the very latest one, unable to conjure the least bit of interest.

_Edward? Bby? Ur not upset w me r u? If u r im so sry for whtvr I did, plz 4give me. i miss u call me._

Jesus fuck. Not only is this bitch needy, desperate, and pathetic, but she's damn near illiterate. How on God's green earth did this simple bitch manage to make it to high school? Even half asleep, I was disgusted. Our public school system is a disgrace. If there is one fucking pet peeve I have, and okay, that's a lie, I have a ton, it's illiterate bitches.

I deleted my entire inbox without bothering to read the rest. I'd just get dumber trying to force myself to decipher that stupidity.

I rolled out of bed and walked butt-ass naked to my adjoining bathroom and took a quick shower. I threw a little wax into my hair and pulled and fluffed it around. I smirked at myself in the mirror. _Bitches love sex hair._

I tossed on some perfectly broken in low-slung jeans and a white, collared, button down shirt. Simplicity was my signature style – I could pull that shit off like nobody's fucking business.

A pair of Timbs, and I was dressed and ready for a day of beating off chicks. I grabbed my keys and ran out the door. This shit was gonna be cake.

* * *

I looked at my watch. Shit. Almost time for third period. Jasper and I were sitting on the trunk of my Volvo in the school parking lot, windows open while The Clash played from inside the car. Jasper took another drag of his cigarette and passed me the flask of Jack he'd been swigging.

"Edward, my man, this is a truly fanfuckingtastic morning."

I snickered as the sweet taste of pipe tobacco mixed with Jack and toothpaste on my tongue. I couldn't stand the shitty over-processed, additive-ridden taste of regular cigarettes. I always rolled my own with flavored paper and pure pipe tobacco.

"Seriously, man. After that fuckin' bet you made with Emmett, I thought you were gonna be an asshole by now. A guy tends to act like a complete dickhead when he's going through withdrawal."

I couldn't help but laugh. This goofy motherfucker was seriously underestimating my control. "Jazz, the bet didn't even start eight hours ago. I'm not that much of a nympho."

"Semantics, my brother. Pure semantics."

We sat there for the rest of the song, finishing off the last of the flask and taking long drags off of each of our cigarettes.

Jasper finally spoke. "Edward man, can I ask you somethin'?"

I looked sideways at him, and I'll be damned if this goofy looking fuck didn't have on his serious face. That fucking hair was in his eyes and he was squinting at me like I was about to tell him the meaning of life.

"What's up, Jas?"

"I was just wondering, dude. I mean, I know you been in all the eligible puss in this town, and shit, if we're being honest, even the puss that's off the market, so I know you know what you're missing. I just wondered, well. Fuck. I mean, how can you even think you'll do it?"

I exhaled a slow train of smoke rings before looking back at him. "It's not really a big deal, to tell you the truth. You got yourself an Alice, man, you know what that's like. And that shit's great, Jas, it really is. That shit you have with that freaky pixie is fucking golden, I'm happy for you. But I'm sick of all these bitches. You gotta understand, they're dumb as god damn bricks. Not even regular bricks. Fucking stupid bricks. Bricks with brain damage. It's re-goddamn-diculous."

"Yeah, I got you on that man. But what I'm saying is, you don't have to marry 'em. I mean, you don't have to debate fucking philosophy to pork 'em, right?"

I narrowed my eyes at Jasper. This motherfucker was not going philosophical on me now, was he? "Nah, probably not. But that doesn't mean I want a bitch who's mentally stimulated by _The Hills_. Besides, there's not an exciting fuck in this school. They're all boring and tired, man. The bet's gonna be easy, because there's nothing to give up. There's not a bitch here that's as stimulating as my right hand, and that motherfucker doesn't talk nearly as much."

He laughed as he jumped off the back of the Volvo and pulled a full bottle of Jack out from under my backseat and focused on refilling the flask.

I looked at him with one crooked eyebrow. This drunk motherfucker here. "Seriously, Jas?"

He grinned back at me and shook his hair out of his eyes. "If I'm gonna watch the famous Edward fucking Cullen shoot down every piece of pussy I have forsaken in my quest for monogamy, I'm gonna be tanked while I do it. You're killing a little piece of every pubescent man in the world today, brother."

I shoved his drunk ass, still laughing, and walked toward my Biology class, not regretting my decision. There was nothing in this piece of shit school worth losing the bet over.

* * *

I flopped, half-drunk and half-annoyed, into my desk at the back of my Biology class. I knew I shouldn't have had a fucking half flask of straight Jack on an empty stomach. Fuck it, it's not like I'd need to focus in this pathetic excuse for an "honors" class.

I might as well have written all my answers in Crayola, the material was so dumbed down for the rest of the idiots around me.

_SHIT, why do these desks have to be so god damned small_? My thoughts were angrier than usual with the alcohol floating around in my brain while I wondered where the shit I was supposed to put my legs. _Who the fuck makes these stupid chairs? Fucking oompa loompas? Christ Almighty, I am not in the mood to deal with this shit._

I couldn't seriously be going into pussy withdrawal this quickly, could I? I wasn't honestly getting pissy nine hours into forgoing fucking rights, was I? Shit.

I leaned back as far as I could in that fucking elf desk and extended my legs as far out in front of me as I could, while I interlaced my fingers behind my head. I went back to my old habit of staring at the ceiling and reciting long-ass poetry in my head, seeing how many lines I could get through at rapid fire before I stumbled and had to actually think about what would come next. I was debating Poe versus Ginsberg when the door yanked open more forcibly than it had been so far.

I kept staring at the water spots on the ceiling. I was just getting to _I saw the best minds of my generation… _when I heard a chorus of gasps go up around me. Well fucking hell. Did Yorkie have a Sani-Seat cover stuck to his ass again? I already had a chuckle ready for the little fruitbasket when I looked up and it died in my throat.

Jesus.

Fucking.

Christ.

Standing directly in front of the door of douchebag Banner's dingy ass Biology class room like a fucking wet dream was the most golden, fucking _epic_ piece of ass I had ever laid eyes on. Holy. Shit.

I half expected wind to start blowing and fat little angel babies to fall out of the fucking sky and start playing harps or some gay shit.

I felt my cock twitch in excitement as I looked at her. I noticed her fuck-me heels right away and imagined having them flailing over my shoulders while I fucked her pretty ass senseless. I looked up over her body, following the sexiest, most toned, longest legs I had ever seen. They flared out perfectly into full, round hips.

FUCK! Was this broad trying to kill me? I can't stand a skin-and-bones bitch – give me a chick with thighs and hips any fucking day.

Those sensuous come-hither hips trailed fucking beautifully into a tiny little waist, and the fullest, perkiest tits that any fake bitch had ever paid for. _Note to self: Poke 'em. They better be fucking real._

All my fantasizing came to an abrupt halt when I got to her face. All that shiny please-touch-me brown hair fell in long soft waves around that face. I had a ridiculous urge to grab a fistful of it and smell it. Whoa – where the FUCK did that come from? Since when the fuck do I smell hair? Get it together, Cullen.

I knew something important was shot to shit right then, when I looked at her face. I just couldn't remember what it was.

Fuck. Me. That face. She had that perfect peaches and cream thing going, all creamy alabaster skin with perfectly pink flushed cheeks, and her mouth was kind of open, and I could just see the tip of her pink little tongue – exactly the way her face would look while she bounced on my cock. You know, minus the screaming.

Then I got to her eyes. _My life is fucking over_. She had these huge brown eyes, just looking like fucking Bambi with those long, thick eyelashes, and then all I could see was her looking up at me with my cock in her mouth, sucking me off and staring up at me with those fucking chocolate doe eyes.

And just like that, the wet dream started walking _toward me._ Not anywhere else in this god forsaken room, but right _at me_. I'll be damned if those perfect tits weren't bouncing, jiggly and full and fucking real.

And then, fuck me, she pulled out the chair right next to me. I was cursing every god I could think of when she sat down. I don't even know how she did it, but her perfect tits were in my face, and then she was setting her stuff down, and her delectable ass was in my face and she just smelled like fucking peaches and strawberries and an entire god damned fruit cocktail. I bit my fucking lip to keep from taking a bite out of her.

As if I weren't royally fucked sideways before, she had to go and put another nail in my coffin – she tossed all those shiny silky waves over her shoulder. And let me just say, normally, I'm immune to bitch tricks like the hair toss – but holy mother of god. _The smell. _It wasn't just peaches and strawberries. It was fucking peaches and sunshine and strawberries and shower-sex pussy and Saturday morning Thundercats and everything that was ever good in my life. _My life is fucking over._

As she planted her perfect body in the chair I turned the fuck away as fast as I could, and stared at Yorkie. If I could think of anything to kill my raging hard on, it would be that ugly asshat.

Just when I was seriously debating stabbing each of my eyeballs out with my fucking Bic, Banner called the class to order. _Thank you, you fat, sweaty, boner-killing son of a bitch!_

And then, un_fucking_believably, my torture _got worse_. Now the wet dream wasn't just shoving bamboo under my fingernails, she was stabbing my balls with an ice pick. FUCK. She was crossing those toned dancer legs toward me, and I couldn't see anything but how they would look wrapped around my neck while I tongue fucked her.

Then she was raising her hand and her tits were jutting out, and I couldn't see anything but how they would look sandwiching my cock between them while I tit-fucked her.

Then she was answering Banner's question, and her voice sounded like sex, and I couldn't hear anything but how she would scream my name while I pounded her from behind, and how that sex voice would sound raspy when her voice was all fucked away.

_My life is over._

Banner's voice penetrated my thoughts from somewhere far away, "Yes, Bella. Adenosine Triphosphate is correct."

Bella. Her name was Bella.

Bella. Bella. _Bella. _And then all I could hear in my thoughts was how her name would sound when I asked her how my cum tasted. And told her to suck me harder. And if she liked when I pulled her hair. And how it felt to ride me. And if she wanted to be fucked harder. And if she wanted two fingers or three while I sucked her clit. And fuck me, I'm going to lose this bet.

Oh. Shit.

The bet. THE BET. There was a bet. I couldn't fuck her. Wouldn't fuck her. If I fucked this wet dream, this _Bella_, I would lose my car. MY CAR.

_My life is over. _God hates me.

Then I did the impossible. I turned my brain off. I shut out Banner, and and I shut out my own thoughts, screaming at me, and I shut off my olfactory nerve, still trying to tease me with peaches and I tried like hell to shut off my cock. That obviously just wasn't fucking happening, so I settled with what I had and stared across the room. At the clock, the wall, the floor, Yorkie's disgusting face, Newton's lame ass hair. At fucking anything but _Bella_ the Erection Goddess sitting next to me.

I clenched and unclenched my fists as hard as I could, hoping the pain in my hands would keep my cock from jumping out of my pants and attacking her. That sure as shit wouldn't be fucking Kosher.

_Get it under control, Cullen. This bitch isn't worth it. She's fucking clueless. She's just a chick, she doesn't control you. She's not all that fucking hot. Her tits aren't that great. Her legs aren't that perfect. Those thighs aren't begging to be wrapped around your waist while you fuck her up against a wall- SHIT!_

Deep fucking breath.

So I sat there, in that stuffy little room, trying to smell my own soap and not the fucking olfactory orgasm coming from right next to me, yelling at myself in my own mind to keep it in my pants or lose my god damned car.

I told myself she wasn't worth it. Not fucking worth it.

And then I wondered why I wanted to slit the throat of every fucking asshole in the room noticing my peaches and cream Bambi in the chair next to me.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my jaw along with my hands and breathed through my mouth. Fuck this shit.

I am Edward. Fucking. Cullen. Whatever this bitch's spiel was, she was gonna have to change it real fucking quick, cuz I was keeping my god damn car.

As soon as the bell rang, I grabbed my shit and took off. I had to find Jasper, and that fucking full flask of Jack. I needed to roll a cigarette and smoke the everloving shit out of it, while whiskey burned my throat and I could concentrate on something other than bending my little doe-eyed Bella over the hood of my car.

I had to man the fuck up and play this the right way, or there would be serious fucking consequences that I was _not_ prepared to face. I shook my head and strode purposefully toward the parking lot to get the liquor out of my car. I'd need something harder than fucking Pepsi to go with my lunch. _Play it right, Cullen_, I told myself.

_Game fucking on._

* * *

**Muahahahah! Let the fun begin! It would seem that we have two very hard-headed players here, hmmm? I wonder who's going to come out on top. Or underneath. Or sideways. Or on all fours... ;) Leave the lovin' and find out soon, shugga!**

**Vanillabeans here! My feelers are still hurt that my one, single, solitary review has been a not nice one. I'm so hurt that I might not be able to go on writing Edward POV. And for the love of god, WHAT WOULD BECOME OF THE STORY?!**


	4. Two of a Kind

**Neither KatieBelleCullen nor I own Twilight. We just get off on making SM's characters arrogant smartasses!**

**  
Hey there dollfaces! Thanks so much for all the reviews! We really appreciate them, and the fact that you degenerates like my Edward gives me the warm fuzzies! EPOV will continue. (but because I am petty, the threat still stands! ;) So on to my genius Katie's hot bitch Bella! **

* * *

Three fucking hours.

Only three fucking hours had passed since I'd stepped foot into this hell hole, and I was already raging.

Normally, I would have loved a good challenge. Hell, I lived for that shit. But for some reason, this felt personal. Too personal.

My temper flared again when I remembered that delicious mess of shiny bronze hair that fit perfectly with those wicked, emerald eyes. I became even more infuriated as I remembered the way those eyes had darted around the room, focusing on everything and everyone in that cramped little room as though they were the most interesting things he had ever fucking seen.

Yep. Everything.

_Except me_.

Fuck this. I needed to take a minute before I went crazy. Columbine crazy.

A tiny teacher's bathroom appeared on my left like an oasis in the Sahara, and I turned immediately, practically steam-rolling a few shithead freshmen in the process. Once the door was locked behind me, I leaned back on it for a minute, allowing myself a frustrated sigh.

_Get it together_, _Bella_.

After a few more relaxing breaths, I stepped towards the counter, then slid my purse down my arm. I pushed straight through the various cosmetics, instantly snatching the pink and silver cell phone from the bottom of my bag. _Cell phone_. _Hah_. I gave it a little kiss, then unscrewed the antenna and lifted the revealed spout to my lips. Tequila Rose slid down my throat with the taste and ease of a strawberry milkshake, and after a few seconds, I set the cell phone-shaped flask back on the bathroom counter.

_Thanks, Renee_.

I swear to God, there was no place on earth that my mother couldn't drink in - it was only natural that I had picked up a trick or two.

_Bitch_.

A nasty taste rose in my mouth that had nothing to do with the alcohol. I still could not _believe_ that, after all the antics I had put up with over the years, she had dropped me like a bad fucking habit for that ball-playing dipshit. Sure, Phil was famous, and he definitely had money to burn, but that cocksucker was as fake as Renee's own rack. One thing was for goddamn sure - I wasn't going to be there when she came crying back. Oh, no. Not after my banishment to dark and drizzly Forks.

I shook my head vigorously - I couldn't think about that shit right now. I had bigger matters to attend to.

After tucking the phone flask back into my purse, I raised my head, taking in my own reflection. Deep, chocolate eyes stared back at me, framed by thick, full lashes that were set above killer cheekbones. My creamy, porcelain skin - though still a little rosy from my anger - still looked as good as it always did, and not a single hair of my mahogany mane was out of place. I ran my fingers through it absently as I stared at the sex kitten in front of me.

What _was_ it about this place? I was positive that I looked the same as I had in Phoenix. And I certainly never had any problems _there_ - no motherfucker had _ever_ ignored Bella Swan. What the hell was that bronze-haired boy's _problem_? I considered carefully for a moment as I applied some strawberry lip gloss on my already pink and shiny lips. He could have a girlfriend - in fact, he probably did, unless the bitches in Forks were as stupid as they looked. But that would be no excuse for his behavior. _Every_ man looked. So what the hell, then?

As the Tequila Rose worked it's magic, I felt my muscles relax as my temper died down, and I breathed a sigh of relief. _Much better_.

I took a few steps back, eyeing my ensemble carefully. Perfect, as always. The rich, teal color of my shirt that was visible from under my flawless white coat made my eyes pop, not to mention my spectacular tits. My favorite Lucky jeans hung perfectly on my hips, wrapping around my gorgeous ass like a second skin. I looked just as delicious as always - which left me even more frustrated. _Why_ had that bronze-haired boy ignored me?

Well, whatever. The game had already begun. I _would_ have that man. I would just have to find a way to get him.

With renewed confidence, I gathered my shit and marched out the door.

Fourth class: Calculus

I strode in, confident as always, and slid with easy grace into an empty desk. I leaned back in my seat, attempting to relax, but was immediately riled up again when some worm popped out of the earth and into the seat next to me, a ridiculously confident smile plastered on his slippery face. The booze may have worked wonders on my spirits, but I did _not_ have the patience for this shit right now. I turned towards him slowly with a malicious sneer on my face, ready to tear the little fucker a new dickhole, but was saved the trouble by a tiny, black-haired, imp of a girl who appeared out of nowhere directly behind him.

"Newton."

Her voice was high and airy, the epitome of non-threatening, but the kid named Newton whirled instantly to face her with wide, almost frightened eyes. _Nice_.

Apparently, no words were necessary. With a slight lean of her spiky little head, Newton scurried from the seat and half-ran to an empty desk across the classroom. I smiled at her, though I felt wary. What the hell was _that_ about? I didn't have time to think over it too much, though. With grace that rivaled mine, the tiny, black-haired girl took the seat beside me, then turned to grin widely at me.

I could see her clearly now, and had to admit that I was impressed. Her red, cashmere shirt complimented her dark hair, dark eyes, and black leather boots. Her skinny jeans hugged her body tightly, emphasizing her little frame, and I noticed with a second glance that they were Lucky Brand.

Someone else with fashion sense and a wallet to match? _Well, I'll be damned_.

"Hi, Bella! I'm Alice. It's nice to meet you. Of course, everyone knew you were coming, but it feels like I've been waiting for forever. How has your first day gone? That bad, huh? I know, this place is hell. . ." She continued on, completely upbeat, and totally unaffected by the lack of response she was receiving.

As she continued to prattle on, I stared in disbelief - this girl was unreal. Usually I couldn't stand these sugar-drops-and-lollipops sorts of girls, but there was something about this Alice chick that I liked. She was like one of those five hour energy shots - about the same size, too. Class started, and she rambled on, completely unphased.

"So anyway, have you met anyone? Have you seen Jasper Whitlock yet? He has shaggy, blonde hair, he's tall, he's gorgeous. . ."

That caught my attention.

"Yeah, I have," I answered with a smirk.

"He's mine." Alice flatlined as she looked me dead in the eye.

I was taken completely off guard for a second. Who did this tiny little bitch think she was? I had lipstick bigger than this chick! But as I looked her over, sizing her up, I smiled in spite of myself. There's nothing I liked better than some spunk and personality - something I could already tell this pisspot of a school was greatly lacking. Plus, if I owned one of the only edible pieces of ass in this place, I'd make sure everyone knew it, too. I had a feeling Alice and I were going to get along just fine.

"Lucky you," I replied in a white-flag sort of way.

Alice smiled brilliantly, and continued her chatter for the rest of class.

By the time the dismissal bell rang, I had absolutely _no_ idea what had been taught. But I had no worries - I was miles ahead of the shit they spoon fed at Forks Fuckstain High. As I stood and started towards the door, I was surprised to find that Alice stayed right by my side. I regarded closely, but then shrugged - I had a feeling this little pixie did whatever she wanted, and I wasn't about to stir up her shit. If anyone here could find me some fun, I'd bet it would be her.

Fifth class: Lunch. _Finally_.

Alice jabbered aimlessly the whole way to the cafeteria - I swear to god she was a force straight out of nature. I didn't mind it too much though - it was better than silence. And it was also a tremendous help in keeping my mind off of a certain pair of infuriatingly gorgeous green eyes. In a matter of minutes, I was acquainted with all the drama that Forks High had to offer. None of it was exactly monumental, but gossip was gossip, and I made sure to file that shit away for later.

As Alice and I entered the sickly, grey hole referred to as the cafeteria, I immediately recognized surfer boy, waiting just a few feet from the entrance. He smiled a bright, goofyass smile the minute that Alice entered the room, and I actually felt my heart lift a little. The way they looked at each other was too sweet, and I decided right then that there was no way I would be touching surfer boy - I just couldn't do that to a girl like Alice. As his blue eyes shifted cautiously to me, I sent him my best friendly, unthreatening smile. His returning smile was relieved and ridiculously lazy, and fuck if I didn't know a good buzz when I saw one.

_I wonder if he'll share_.

"Bella, this is Jasper, of course. Jas, this is Bella," Alice trilled. We nodded, as was appropriate.

Alice continued.

"I know you'll all really like her. Bella's from Phoenix, and I think Rose and her will - wait, where are they?" she cut off, abruptly.

But there was no need for Jasper to answer.

At that moment, three people burst through the cafeteria door, heading straight for us.

"Oh, good!" Alice chirped. "Bella, I would like you to meet my best friends. The one on the left is Emmett McCarty. Don't worry, he's big, but harmless. The girl is Rosalie, Em's girlfriend. But I'm sure you already figured that out. She can be a bitch, but she's cool as fuck, so no worries. She and I. . ."

But Alice's voice was already beginning to fade as the cafeteria walls grew fuzzy. I didn't give fuck about the huge jock or his perfect girlfriend - in fact, I hardly noticed them at all.

The only thing I could see was the tousled mess of bronze hair, heading straight for me.

"And this is Edward Cullen," Alice's voice rang through my daze as they approached.

His green eyes flashed instantly to mine, and they were even more beautiful than I remembered. I could lose myself in those eyes. I watched, entranced, as they widened in an array of emotions - surprise, disbelief, confusion, and - most excitingly - _lust_.. Huh.

"Edward, meet Bella Swan."

I couldn't help the smirk that appeared on my lips as I met his astonished gaze.

_Well, hello there, Edward Cullen_.

**WooWOO! I just LOVE Katie's Bella, don't you? Isn't she amazing? Oh wow, sexbitch Bella and arrogant prick Edward, face to face? Could it be? Is it possible? Oh darlings, it just might be. EPOV is up next. Tell momma you want it ;)**


	5. Know When to Hold 'Em

**As always, nothing Twilight belongs to myself or KatieBelle, a fact that leaves me wallowing in misery nightly. Because, really, Edward Cullen? Sign me up.**

**A humongous thank you to KatieBelle, my stunningly brilliant partner-in-crime, because without her, the last part of this chapter would have been complete garbage or never happened. Babe, you are a genius and an inspiration and one helluva damn fine friend! I love you!! **

**And finally, I dedicate this chapter to my Smutmate, the other smutpea in my smutpod. You are filthy and raunchy and downright brilliant. You are Henry Cavill and the tongue and whiskey sours and cocktail dresses with pearls and jailbait pest control and DTE and a black 72 Riviera. You are smutepic, and all of our _research_ paid off. I love your smutty guts out, you filthy girl.**

**And remember, beh-behs. NC-17 for a reason. **

* * *

EPOV

_Fuck. Fuck. FUCKFUCKFUCK. _I couldn't help but mentally berate myself as I shoved my way through the mass of bodies congesting the hallways, trying to make it back to the parking lot in one piece. What the _fuck_ had I been thinking taking Emmett up on that stupid bet? Fuck that bet. If that bet were a person, I'd punch it in the god damned face. Right in the fucking nose. _Fuck you, bet!_

I was halfway to the door when I remembered that my strawberry rolling paper was in my locker. _Shit._ _Of course it's right where I don't want it to be – why the fuck would it be somewhere convenient?_ I grimaced in frustration as I turned to go to the direction I'd just come, back toward my locker. Normally I'd have just said _fuck it_ and waited until I got home to smoke, but my cock was still throbbing painfully and I needed a cigarette to go with the inevitable liquor. I couldn't wish this raging erection away, so by god, I was gonna drown it.

I fished through books I'd never bothered to open and stupid assignments I'd never bothered to turn in. _Where the FUCK are those papers?!_ I shoved the debris around angrily until I found what I was looking for, inside a brand-new looking text book. I slammed the locker door shut, and if I weren't half fucking drunk with impaired reaction times already, I'd have jumped at the figure that had been lurking behind it.

"Hi Edward," she crooned up at me, craning her neck and twirling a strand of ugly, frizzy hair around one fat little sausage finger.

"Jessica." God dammit, I was not amused. While Jessica was by no means ugly, seeing her features not five minutes after I'd laid eyes on _Bella, _she was fucking Quasimodo. Did this bitch not have a fucking bell tower somewhere to be in?

"You never called me back," she pouted, looking up at me while she tried her damndest to give me bedroom eyes. I wondered if she knew it looked like she had a nervous twitch.

I shrugged and she reached forward and put her hand on my chest. I looked pointedly down at her fingers while she continued babbling away about "respect" in our "relationship". What the shit did she think she was doing? She didn't honestly delude herself into thinking we had a _relationship_, did she? Wow. Not only was she ridiculously ignorant, she might have been border-line retarded.

She kept prattling while I stared down at her plump man-hands and wondered how the fuck I'd ever been attracted enough to her to fuck her. _Maybe she gives a helluva handjob. She'd have to with talons like that. I bet she has a fucking kung-fu grip. Gross. I wonder how Bella's dainty little hands would feel wrapped around my cock. I bet they're fragile and strong at the same time. I bet she knows just how to jerk it and exactly the right way to twist her wrist as soon as she gets to the hea- FUCK! _ I was _not_ doing this again.

I sneered in disgust and shoved Jessica's paw off me. I was tired of the pretenses, and it was just about time to get this broad off of my nuts for good.

"Sorry banana-hands, I have shit to do. You'll be fine though, I hear they've got extra brownies in the cafeteria. Go stock up."

I sidestepped around her and hauled ass with long strides toward the parking lot, leaving Jessica's face contorted into a mask of ugly bewilderment and rage. Uh-oh. _I hope she doesn't leave a dead cat or some shit in my backseat. That would fucking suck. I love my leather seats._

I took the steps at the back of the school two at a time and half ran to the parking lot. I looked around for Jasper, but didn't see him. There was a decent chance he had Alice bent over in a janitor's closet somewhere by now, anyway. I was just about to go drag his tipsy ass out of where ever he was to steal the flask from him when I remembered the giant bottle of Jack shoved under the passenger seat of my car. _HA!_

Still hauling balls, I was almost to the Volvo before I noticed Emmett's obnoxious Jeep parked next to it. It hadn't been there when I went in to third period this morning, which meant the big cretin had arrived sometime between then and now. I was just about to yell for the dumb, lovable bastard when Rosalie's perfect blonde head popped up from behind the front seat. She looked flushed and happy and fucking glowing even though it was probably just sweat.

Emmett sat up behind her, still with no shirt on. That big fuck had the dopiest grin on his face and scratched his chest while he yelled out to me, even though he was probably trying to tone it down.

"Fuckin' Cullen. What's the deal, bitch?"

Rosalie laughed at Emmett as she hopped over the side of the Jeep, still shimmying the ends of her skirt down to a surprisingly modest level. To my cock's disappointment, she gathered up all that delicious sex hair into a neat bun at the base of her neck.

"Emmett. Rosalie." I nodded at each of those horny delinquents as I came to a stop next to my car and opened the passenger side door. Fucking Rosalie took a sweater out of her backpack and started to shrug it on. I looked at her in sheer disbelief while she made the transformation from liquored up hornball fucking her boyfriend's brains out in the school parking lot, to prim and proper student-council member in a god damned sweater vest.

I laughed at the disappointed look on Emmett's big ass face. He was damn near pouting. Rose gave him a quick peck on the cheek and winked at me as she walked off.

"Gotta keep up appearances, fellas," she called over her shoulder. Fuckin' Rosalie.

Emmett just shook his head as he rustled around looking for his shirt. He grinned up at me, looking half-retarded. "She's gonna be the death of me. You know that, Cullen?"

I yanked out the bottle of Jack and took a big-ass swig while I stared at Emmett. I exhaled while the whiskey burned my throat and laughed, "But you love every minute of it you, ya douche, so quit your bitchin'."

Fully clothed, he grinned and nodded. The goofy fuck jumped out of the Jeep and still smiling, reached for the bottle. We took turns killing the rest of the liquor while I rolled and finally smoked another cigarette.

We leaned up against that stupid Jeep, side by side, watching the back doors of the building in case we had to duck. He spoke without looking at me.

"You don't usually get so trashed during the day, Cullen. The fuck is wrong with you?"

Fucking fantastic. Leave it to Dumb Luck McCarty to get all fucking intuitive the one time I need him to remain clueless. _God hates me. _

_Oh yeah, by the way Emmett, you can probably expect to own my car sometime soon, because the fucking walking embodiment of every one of my fantasies materialized in my Biology class today and I had to picture my grandmother naked to keep from fucking her brains right out of her ears on our lab table. I can't feel my god damned fingers because all the blood in my body is in my dick right now, and speaking of, my balls are fucking Arctic blue. Aside from that, everything's great. Peachy. Mmm, Bella smells peachy. I'd love to eat her peach, all soft and juicy- FUCK. I have to stop this shit. _

I shook my head and actually thought I felt alcohol sloshing around in my brain. Obviously, this was going to be a fucking productive day. Wordlessly, I tossed the empty bottle into the bushes and pushed off of Emmett's Jeep. He followed and, still not speaking, walked by my side toward our English class.

English had been fucking hell just like I knew it would be. _Wuthering Heights_ was fucking bullshit and I'd read that shit a million times anyway. I have a masochistic penchant for the classics. So instead of paying attention to shit I already knew, I concentrated on stuff I didn't know. Like what color Bella's nipples would be. And what size her areolas were. And if she just trimmed, or if she shaved completely. And whether she was a moaner or a screamer, or God willing, the perfect fucking combination of both. And if she preferred to be on top or on bottom. And if she'd swallow. If there was a god, she'd swallow.

I thought of how she would feel under me, all silky soft and warm and fucking trembling because really, I'd make her tremble. I thought of how she'd feel on top of me, that perfect round ass slapping against my thighs while she bounced on my cock, and I wondered what her hips would feel like under my fingers while I rocked her harder. I debated whether I'd rather eat her almost-certainly perfect pussy or have her swallow my dick and eventually called it a toss up. Both prospects were fucking delicious, and it wasn't until I caught myself actually trying to fathom what her pussy would _taste_ like that I realized my error. The more I fucking thought about her, about how god damned delicious she would be, the worse off I would be. I had to just shut my brain and my dick the fuck up.

I managed to tear my mind away from Bella's perfectly pale, writhing, nude body long enough to hear the dismissal bell. Emmett punched me in the arm as we stood outside the classroom, waiting for Rosalie so we could all go to lunch together and meet Alice and Jasper. No thanks to my illegal blood alcohol level, I almost didn't stay on my feet. Good fucking thing I was leaning against the wall, or I'd have landed Jasper-style on my ass in the middle of the hallway.

Emmett carelessly tossed his redwood of an arm over Rosalie's shoulders as she strode up and I couldn't help but be surprised that she didn't crumble. She wasn't that god damned big and Emmett was a fucking gargantuan. Ah, the mysteries of science.

Rosalie started recanting the events of her last class, the sheer douchebaggery that was Tyler Crowley had been hitting on her again. I laughed at Emmett's reaction.

"That stupid fucking son of a bitch. What, because having his bitch nose broken once wasn't good enough? What a cocksucker. He better fucking run next time I see him. I'll rip off his god damned head and shit down his neck, that little fucking prick."

I kept laughing and concentrated on keeping my feet stable as we walked into the cafeteria. I couldn't pass a field sobriety test right now, so it would probably be a good idea not to get caught more than halfway to shit faced during school.

Just as we stopped, I heard Alice introducing me. I was still watching my fucking feet, amazed that they were staying where I'd left them, and wondering why the fuck Alice would be introducing me to Jasper. I knew she was out there, but introducing me to my lifelong best friend? That would be just fucking weird. And there was the god damned sloshy feeling again. I wondered briefly if it was possible for liquor to actually end up inside my cranial cavity before I remembered I should probably look up and see why Alice was introducing me.

I lifted my head and in slow motion, I felt my eyes get all big and I probably looked fucking retarded, but I couldn't help it, because sex in fucking heels was standing there smirking at me.

Holyfuckingshit.

There was no way that my wet dream was standing here with Alice, less than a foot away from me. Fate couldn't be that fucking cruel, could she? My aching cock, having finally gone flaccid with alcohol, painfully awoke, twitching in excitement and pure, unadulterated lust. I wanted her so bad it fucking _hurt_ to look at her. There was this unexplainable pull toward her and it made my heart beat fast and my lungs burn and my balls ache and all of the sudden I couldn't understand what the fuck I was doing.

Since when did a bitch have any sort of pull on me? I was fucking bewildered, staring at that ridiculously perfect fucking face. The corners of that lickable, fuckable mouth turned down just a bit, and she unconsciously nibbled at her full bottom lip and suddenly, I wanted to be the one doing it for her. _What the fuck was that? _In the few short seconds since we'd stopped in front of Alice, my mind had been racing and I couldn't make fucking sense of the shit my brain was thinking. And then Bella's tongue darted out, for a miniscule little piece of a second, just flicked across her lips, and I didn't fucking care anymore.

"Edward, meet Bella Swan."

I nearly pissed myself. Hearing her name outside my fantasies was like a kick to my already sore balls and it made everything, _everything_, more real. Holyfuckingshit.

And just like that, her smirk was back. Those big brown eyes drilled into me and she batted her eyelashes and I'm pretty sure I felt fucking pre-cum ooze from my cock when she spoke.

"Hello, Edward," she grinned. "It's nice to meet you. Although I think we might have Biology together. You do have Banner third period, don't you?"

Her voice was throaty and sexy and I wanted more than anything to hear it scream my name. So instead I said, "I do," because it was the only thing short enough to say, and I was pretty fucking sure if I kept my mouth open any longer than that, I'd say something like _How'd you like to taste my cock_?.

In the thirty or so seconds that had passed since I'd looked up and met my fucking doom, I'd entirely forgotten Emmett and Rosalie and Jasper and Alice were even there, which was surprising since really, it's Emmett. He reached around me and completely fucking unaffected, stuck out his giant meaty hand.

"Hey Bella, I'm Emmett. This hot fuckin' piece over here is my Rosalie. She's sexy, huh?" he grinned at her while Rosalie poked him in the side and nodded at Bella.

Alice kept chirping away about everyone's life fucking story as we walked to our customary table. She reached out for the chair that Newton was about to sit down in and yanked it toward the rest of ours. Newton glared at her while Alice gestured sweetly for Bella to have a seat.

Jasper was just turning to pull Alice's chair out for her when he caught the _fuck you_ look Newton was shooting her. As he pushed the little pixie's seat in, he looked back towards Mike with a shit-eating grin.

"Hey, Newton. While I appreciate the stares at Alice, 'cuz she's fucking gorgeous and all, I'd really advise you to wipe that fucking look off your face. I'd hate to have to break your fucking jaw. Alice just bought me these jeans and she'll be pissed if they get bloody. Thanks, bro."

And with that, he clapped Mike on the back and turned back around. God damn that Jasper is funny.

Bella raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows and grinned at Jasper. "And here I thought chivalry was dead. Nicely done, Jasper."

Goofy fucking Jasper just shook his hair out of his eyes again and grinned at her. Alice fucking beamed and rubbed her hand on his thigh. Christ, they were like rabbits on Viagra.

Emmett's laughter was obscenely loud as he knocked fists with Jasper from across the table. "I'm fucking starving. C'mon Rosie, let's get food."

The two of them got up to buy lunch with Alice and Jasper hand in hand behind them, effectively leaving Bella and I alone. Entirely fucking alone at this table, with her looking like that, and smelling like that, with the decent chance that this would turn out poorly. Fuck.

I tried to think offensively but there wasn't a lot of blood left in my brain, especially with the way Bella was staring at me.

"So, Bella. Aren't you hungry?" _Fuck, just saying her name makes me want to taste her. _I had to get her up and away from me, so I could take a breath that wasn't laced with the fucking smell of her. Maybe then I'd be able to think a coherent thought that didn't revolve around mindfucking her.

She glanced around at the trays on neighboring tables and wrinkled her cute little nose. Her eyes darted back to me and she glared incredulously as she asked, "For that refried shit? I'll pass."

She shot me a quizzical look and grinned knowingly, "What about you, Edward? Aren't _you_ hungry?"

_Fuck yes I am. Hungry for your come while your cunt rides my tongue. I could lap that shit all day – Shit. She's staring._

"No." I cut myself off, knowing I was five short fucking seconds from offering. "I'm not hungry."

I leaned back in my chair and pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, trying, unfuckingsuccessfully to ground out the images of Bella riding my face and screaming my name. That, coupled with the obscene amount of hard liquor floating around in my skull was making me lightheaded. I didn't know if it was from the Jack or from the Bella, but I was fucking dizzy.

I was just getting to the part where Bella wrapped those long legs around my neck and fisted her hands in my hair while she creamed on my tongue when her sultry voice broke me from my reverie.

Her smile was sly as she said, "So, Alice is…active."

I smiled. "Alice is indeed…quintessentially _active_." I snickered, recalling all the times I'd had to make myself scarce, or be subjected to a live preview of just what it was that made Jasper whimper and beg.

Bella seemed to understand just what I was thinking, because that knowing smirk was back in place, and she laughed slowly, each chuckle of her throaty voice like a light-handed caress to my cock. I felt myself react instinctively to the smooth, smoky texture of it and I couldn't help but imagine the way it would sound when I forced _different _sounds out of her throat. What that breathy chuckle would sound like when it turned to pants as she begged for me to fuck her and I could swallow each of the cries of pleasure I would undoubtedly give her.

"Our little extracurricular Alice. I should have known." She simpered wickedly. "But what about you, Edward?" she cocked her head to the side. Her eyes gleamed with unspoken challenge as she went on, "I wouldn't have pegged _you_ as the fifth wheel type."

"Oh, he's not," Rosalie intruded, setting down a tray that contained fewer calories than the stick of gum in my pocket. How the fuck did she survive on lettuce leaves and spring water? "He takes care of the rest of Forks' poor, bereft female population." I glared murderously at her for giving voice to my own… _extracurricular activities. _I was caught off guard by my anger. Why the fuck did I care if Bella knew who I was porking?

However, to my baffled surprise, Bella laughed. "Well now, that makes much more sense," she eyed me mischievously and let those gorgeous doe eyes roam the room skeptically. "So, who's the current squeeze?"

Before I could cut off both her and my impending god damn doom, Rosalie's fat fucking mouth opened again. Wasn't there a cock somewhere that needed sucking? Christ!

She smiled sweetly at Bella, "Jessica Stanley. The bitch with the pubic hair on her head, two tables over."

I watched curiously as Bella eyed her, then felt my dick to react to the grin that crept over her face as she said, "Well isn't it hard to hear her through the paper bag? I mean, you do make her put one on, don't you?"

Emmett's raucous laughter reverberated off the walls, and every head in the cafeteria turned to look at us, while Alice convulsed into a fit of giggles. Jasper, ever the king of the delayed reaction, grinned stupidly before spewing his drink across the table, earning a death glare from Rose. He spluttered and choked on the Dr. Pepper as he chuckled hoarsely.

"Do you fuckin' _hear_ this shit, bro?" Jasper laughed, then reached forward for Bella to knock his fist.

She didn't miss a beat, just smiled that same shit-eating grin that Jasper does as she reached forward to bump his traitorous fist back. The prick.

"Fucking genius, Bella. But you're a little off. He phone bones that bitch more than he actually fucks her."

Fucking Jasper. Fucking backstabbing-shit-talking-son-of-a-bitchin' Jasper. I love that clever fuck.

Bella raised both eyebrows at me, then flashed me another one of those wicked grins. I felt my cock almost groan in protest – it was going to motherfucking _explode_ if she kept that shit up.

"Nice. Ten points for simplicity," she said nonchalantly, sending the whole table, including Rose into a fit of laughter. Fuck - could this cold broad be any more perfect?

"Bella, my girl," Emmett roared, "I like you. I approve of your existence!"

Rose just turned to glare daggers at him. Bella saw the fiery look and rolled her eyes. Lucky for everyone within the immediate vicinity, Rose didn't catch it. She had a tendency to be somewhat … explosive.

"Aw baby, you know you're my one and only," Emmett pouted as he slapped a gianormous fucking hand right on Rosalie's tit. They couldn't be serious. Pretty soon, they were going to have to wrestle Alice and Jasper for the god damned janitor's closet.

_Rosalie and Alice wrestling? Rosalie and Alice wrestling in Jell-o. Rosalie and Alice making out in Jell-o. Bella wrestling Rosalie and Alice in Jell-o. Bella in Jell-o. Bella trembling like Jell-o while she comes on my cock. Bella coming. Bella coming on my tongue. FUCK! Pay attention, Cullen!_

I shook my head and blinked to clear my mind just in time to hear Alice cultivating the end of my fucking existence and the beginning of my use of public transportation, "Anyway, Bella, do you like shopping? Of course you do. Well, Rose and I are heading to Seattle on the weekend, and you just have to come. Have you ever been there? You'll love it - it's nothing like Forks. They have. . ."

But even I, with my liquor-saturated brain and throbbing dick, could tell Bella wasn't paying any attention to Alice's invitation. She was staring directly at me, her full lips curved up into an _I-know-what-you-need_ smile. I let myself gaze back at her, trying with epic fucking valor to ignore my painfully pulsing cock, and instead focused on pulling the dirty little secrets out of those deep eyes. _I bet she likes it rough. I bet she'd like her ass smacked and her hair pulled while I fuck her from behind. I bet I could just stand there and she'd shove back onto my cock and take it all. I bet she could take it all down her throat too. Look at those lips. I bet she could swallow my fucking cock and lick my balls at the same time. GodDAMN-_

Suddenly, everyone was on their fucking feet, including Bella. I rose hastily but carefully, taking great precaution to avoid accidentally rubbing my pained cock on anything. That would just be fucking asking for disaster. I realized quickly that almost the entire lunchroom was cleared out. I had to hurry - gym was one class even I refused to miss today; Lauren Mallory may have had the face of fucking mutated wolverine, but that bitch absolutely refused to wear a bra during gym, and we were playing basketball this week.

Instead of turning and leaving with everyone else, Bella was suddenly moving toward me, full hips swiveling naturally, perfect tits gently bouncing. _Fuck._

"It was nice to meet you, Edward," she purred as she came to a stop in front of me. I could only grin at her lopsidedly and put on my best arrogant bastard face as she leaned forward slowly. I could smell her breath as she did – tequila and strawberries, _ungghhh_ – as she planted a chaste kiss on my cheek, just close enough to my jaw to have me biting my fucking tongue. She whispered sweetly in my ear, "I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other. Soon."

The feeling of her words exhaled across my earlobe, coupled with that goddamn amazing smell, had me shuddering involuntarily as she stepped around me and sauntered off, leaving me painfully cock-hard and stunned.

_I am Edward. Fucking. Cullen. I do not get stunned. I do not lust. I do not pine. I do not yearn. _

I glanced around at the empty cafeteria, and then down at my still-hard dick, practically screaming and begging for release, as I imagined the deep blue color my balls would inevitably be. I closed my eyes and tried to take a deep cleansing breath, but all I could smell was tequila and fucking strawberries, and then I was _sure_ I felt pre-cum oozing from my cock.

_I am Edward. Fucking. Cullen. And I am in serious god damn trouble._

* * *

**Bahahaha! I don't know about you guys, but I LOVE DTE! And it would appear that our naughty Bella does too! Poor Edward, I can't wait to see what KatieBelle has in store for him! I got a 20 that says it's going to be naughty and amazing and quite possibly illegal in at least 3 states. Leave the lovin' if you wanna know, shugga! **

**I've gotten 30 new story alerts in the last HOUR, but no new reviews. That is just not kosher, people! Make it happen, cap'n!**


	6. Up the Ante

**Hello there, my snugglies! Our genius KatieBelle is back with some wonderful Bitchella perspective. And if I do say so myself, some fun awaits us!**

**As always, and much to our ever-present dismay, neither KatieBelle nor I own anything Twilighted. The Sexward of my dreams is, after all, only in my dreams. And loins.**

* * *

BPOV:

As soon as the cafeteria door shut behind me, I groaned in frustration.

What. The. Fuck.

After a full hour of shameless flirting and scorching sex eyes, I had yet to make any head way with Edward fucking Cullen. Literally. And after the signals I had been sending him, he should have at _least_ had the decency to escort me to the nearest janitor's closet - or even ravished me right in the middle of the goddamn cafeteria. Lord knows I wouldn't have minded.

My frown deepened as I pulled out my schedule, willing myself to see the day through instead of marching my ass straight to my truck and leaving High School Hell far behind me. I just couldn't believe, after seeing his pathetic excuse for a fuck buddy, that Edward hadn't jumped all over my shit. I mean, seriously? That girl had "bad lay" stamped all over her five-finger forehead. I had called that shit, too, and he hadn't even _tried_ to disagree. And still, he hadn't so much as asked for my phone number. Fucking whatever. I _would_ get to him, I just had to figure out how. With one last, sidelong look towards the parking lot, I took off in the other direction, heading determinedly towards my next prison sentence.

Sixth class: Calculus.

As I settled into my seat, pointedly ignoring every ignorant fucker making sickening goo-goo eyes at me, I let my mind wander back to Edward Cullen. What was his _deal_? I had absolutely no idea why he was being so damn frigid. Did I need to spell it out for him, or what? I closed my eyes for a moment, then instantly regretted it. All I could see was that lazy, sexy smirk he had flashed me after I had kissed his cheek. That smirk had simply _oozed_ sex, and the moment I'd seen it, I couldn't help but wonder if that's what his come face looked like. _I bet it's better_. But so far, I wasn't any closer to finding out - a fact that was annoying the hell out of me. I tapped my pencil against my leg, completely ignoring the dumbfuck teacher as I contemplated what my next move would be. I had already laid my cards on the table, right under Edward's fucking nose, and he had yet to reciprocate. Clearly, I was going to have to up the ante.

Once the bell finally rang, I didn't even have to glance at my schedule to know that gym would be the last pain in my ass for the day. As I pushed through the crowd of dipshits, shooting death rays at anyone who came too close to my Jimmy Choo's, all I could think about was Edward. I had never been so blatantly refused like this in my entire life - the man was playing hard-to-get like a bitch. Which was fine - I could play the game like a fucking pro. But _why_ he was doing it was beyond me. I sighed as I glanced at my purse, wishing I hadn't drained my Tequila Rose so quickly - another pull would have hit the spot right about now. _Oh well_. One more hour and I would be free to go home, raid Charlie's "emergency stash", and form my own game plan.

Seventh Class: Gym

The first thing I noticed when I entered the locker room was a disgusting mass of frizzy black hair, bobbing in the background. I instantly headed in that direction, eager to get a closer look at the Pubic Poodle, and was wickedly amused at what I saw. There was fresh mascara running down her cheeks in torrents, her nose was as red as a cherry tomato, and she had wads of nasty tissues stuffed between her fat fucking fingers. This girl had been dumped - recently. _Interesting_. My amusement only grew when she turned and saw me, standing just a few lockers down from her. Her ape face instantly twisted into a nasty expression that I assumed was rage while she muttered something to the other primates that surrounded her. They simultaneously turned to glare in my direction, and I grinned widely before shooting them a wink. _Hi, there_. _Bella Fucking Swan_, _bitches_.

It was obvious that they thought I had already nabbed Cullen, which was both entertaining and highly irritating, because I _should_ have had that bastard wrapped around my littlest finger by now. I mean, I'd had guys wrapped around my _toes_ for less. I bristled again at the memory of Edward, leaning back in his chair with legs spread, looking like sex, then rubbing his hands over his eyes as though he was trying to will me away. _Fat fucking chance_.

Gym passed quicker than I could have hoped, with the amazing Pube and company sending me laughable glares throughout the period. As much as I hated gym, at least I could appreciate the live entertainment. I didn't bother to correct them on their assumption, as it was only a matter of time before Cullen was mine, anyway. I would be seeing to that.

As I strolled out of gym and headed through the dingy parking lot, a plan was already beginning to form in my mind. Judging by the amazed looks that had been plastered on the faces of the entire student body when I had sat at their lunch table today, I was willing to bet that none of Edward's bitches had ever sat with them like I had. Clearly, Cullen's friends were most important to him. And therein lied the key - his friends. I had already been accepted into their little group - that much had been obvious the moment I had bagged on bag-head herself. And that gave me the perfect opening.

"BEEEELLLLAAAAAAAA!!"

My name tore through the air so loudly that all wildlife within a ten-mile radius scampered for shelter. My head snapped towards the direction of the piercing scream, and my jaw almost dropped when I saw tiny Alice, bouncing up and down with her hands still cupped around her mouth.

Jesus Christ. _Warning_: _Objects may be louder than they appear_.

Judging from her frantic waving, I assumed she wanted me to approach. I surveyed her surroundings carefully, then smirked when I saw the copper-haired cockblocker himself, standing a few feet to her left. I sauntered over to them, my full lips curved into the most seductive smile I could muster as I made sure to put a little spring in my step, sending my hair sashaying behind me while my tits bounced with the motion.

As soon as I had joined them, I noticed both Edward and Jasper were leaning lazily against the back bumper of a humongous jeep that I could only guess was Emmett's, while the big bear himself was busy pawing Rosalie in the back of her cherry red BMW. Cars and their drivers, they say.

"Bella! Oh my God, so how did your day go? Any better? I was just saying to Jas that. . ." Alice immediately began to ramble.

However, my attention was diverted instantly by Edward, along with the flask he held between his long fingers. I smiled and nodded at Alice while I took three steps towards Edward, positioning myself directly in front of him. I peered up at Edward through my lashes while slowly bringing my hand up to his shoulder, then dragged my fingers lightly down his arm until they came to rest on top of his, which were gripping the flask tightly.

"Care to share?" I cooed, while keeping my eyes locked with his.

Edward just lifted an eyebrow while he looked down at me, with an amused smirk on his face as he handed me the flask. Jasper and Emmett suddenly erupted into laughter, while Edward shot them both a violent glare, which only made them laugh harder. Jasper's roaring laughter racked through his body, and he promptly fell off the side of the Jeep, landing flat on his ass on the cold, wet pavement. Not that anyone seemed too surprised by that.

Annoyed, and a little miffed, I took a generous swig from the flask. _Jack_. _Nice_. Behind me, Emmett had already jumped from the BMW and was making his way to a silver Volvo parked on the other side of the jeep. It was Edward's - I was sure of it. Once Emmett reached the shiny, sexy car, he stroked the trunk seductively and arched an eyebrow at Edward while the rest of the gang looked on with shit-eating grins.

_Huh_.

"So, Bella," Rosalie called to me from her BMW, her grin six miles wide, "still up for some shopping this Saturday?"

"Of course," I responded, while shooting a coy smile at Edward. "I wouldn't miss it."

"Excellent," Rosalie nodded, then threw Emmett a wink before reversing out.

_Hmmmm_.

Jasper, who had managed to get back on his feet by now, sloshed unsteadily towards me, towing little Alice under his arm. As soon as he was close enough, his other arm fell across my shoulders, causing both Alice and I to stumble from his weight.

"Fucking beautiful," Jasper chuckled. "Alice here has been _dying_ for another shopping partner, haven't you, baby?" Alice nodded vehemently.

"So how about you three girls meet us at Edward's house after your hard day of shopping for a little sleepover?" he asked while winking at Edward. Alice squeed immediately, then launched into the plans for the night, while Edward looked on with murder in his eyes.

_Uh-huh_. Something was definitely going on here - and Edward's friends knew about it. My plan was proving more brilliant with every passing second.

"Sounds good to me," I nodded, while stepping out from underneath Jasper's arm, sending him and Alice tumbling into the jeep.

"You hear this shit, bro?" Jasper called to Emmett, once he dislodged his face from the side of the jeep, "Bella's joining the girls for a sleepover at Edward's on Saturday!"

Emmett's boisterous laughter rang through the air while he clapped Edward on the back.

"Sounds fucking fantastic," Emmett boomed. "See you guys later, Rosie's waiting for me over at her place."

With that, Emmett hopped into his jeep, leaving Alice, Jasper, Edward and I loitering in the empty parking lot. It was definitely time to make my exit - I had some serious shit to think through.

Stepping once again towards Edward, I handed him back the flask, making sure my fingers brushed his as I did.

"Thanks, Edward," I purred, then bit my lip as I gazed up at him.

Edward's mouth twitched up into that damn smirk again as he shoved the flask back into his pocket.

"Anytime, Bella," he answered simply, then looked away.

I could smell his sweet yet sultry breath, laced with Jack and just a hint of strawberries, and I wondered once again why he refused to simply jump my bones. Did the man need a golden fucking ticket or what?

"Later, Alice. Jasper," I nodded, as I started back to my truck. I had no idea what had just happened, but something going on with them. Something that included Edward, specifically. And I'll be damned if I wasn't going to find out what it was.

When I got back to Charlie's, I stormed through the front door and headed straight for the goods. I was fucking hurt and insulted, and I fully intended on drowning my sorrows.

Upon entering the kitchen, I immediately shoved a chair towards the ancient fridge, then stood on top of it, reaching for the cabinet that hung above the jar that was pathetically labeled "Food Money". I threw the doors open, then peered inside to see my old friend, Captain Morgan, waiting for me. I grabbed him immediately and hurriedly unscrewed the top. The rum burned my throat as I gulped it greedily, but I refused to stop until the need to breathe absolutely demanded it. As soon as I pulled away, I cleared my throat harshly, then slowly replaced the lid. I stuck the Captain back in his place, then sunk cross-legged into the chair, sighing loudly. Without a doubt, this had been the worst day of my life. I closed my eyes as I leaned my head back, letting the Captain warm my body.

Why had Edward Cullen ignored me? I just couldn't make sense of it. Men were simple by nature - give them an inch, and they'll gratefully take it a mile. I knew Edward was intelligent - our teasing banter at lunch had made that obvious. But still, he _was_ a man. I'd given him his inch - well, more like several feet - and he hadn't even _tried_ to go anywhere with it. I had never seen a guy act so fucking _untouchable_ before. And maybe he _had_ been untouchable, I reasoned. But that had been before _me_.

Well, I was just going to have to show him what I was all about.

I smiled to myself as I stood up, then replaced the kitchen chair before heading up the stairs to my bedroom. This was going to be a game of strategy - and I was going to turn the odds in my favor. But where to start?

I walked into my bedroom, parked my ass in front of my mirror, and studied myself carefully. Beautiful? _Sure_. Flawless? _Absolutely_. Could I do better? _Fuck, yeah_.

I dove into my closet and began rifling through my clothes, looking for something that would bring Edward Cullen to his knees. He seemed like a legs and ass man to me, so I eyed my skirt selection carefully. I tossed aside most of my mini's, internally cursing the ever-dripping sky of Forks. But after only a few minutes, I found exactly what I was looking for. It was a knee-length, pinstriped pencil skirt that hugged my hips tightly, adorned with three buttons trailing up the back. _Muahahaha_. The skirt had a sophisticated type of sexiness that I immediately knew Edward would love. I quickly paired it with a tight, black sweater, then threw in some fuck-me heels for good measure. I laid the outfit carefully over my desk chair, then smirked. A few days worth of shit like this, and Edward Cullen would be panting after me - exactly the way he should be.

Fully satisfied, I laid on my bed, contemplating my next step. I was intrigued by what had happened in the parking lot after school - what the fuck had all that been about? It definitely centered around Edward, and I had a sneaking feeling that I was included, too. I considered it carefully for a minute, then gave up. There was no way I was going to figure that shit out - yet.

That's where step two came in. I was going to see to it that I became a permanent fixture in their little group. I sure as hell didn't mind - they had the kind of fun I was looking for, and I already liked them all, anyway. Alice was a sweetheart - possible ADHD aside - and Jasper was a funny motherfucker. Emmett was a bigass goofball, and I already loved him for it. Rosalie may be a little standoffish, but that was okay, because I could be, too. I was positive that I would meet no obstacles there. And once I was settled into their group, I would be able to get to the bottom of whatever it was that was going on. Plus, as one of his closest friends, Edward would have no choice but to be near me, and it would only be a matter of time before he recognized Bella fucking Swan for what she was worth.

I grinned devilishly. _I am a fucking genius_. _And Edward Cullen is in serious god damn trouble_.

* * *

By Saturday morning, I was more pissed than I had ever been in my entire life. My ass was fucking _raging_. I had pulled out all the stops over the course of the school week, and gotten jack fucking shit in return. Every day had been exactly the same.

I would first see fucking Cullen in Biology, where he would nod at me shortly, then spend the rest of the hour pretending I didn't even goddamn exist. When I would see him at lunch, he would ignore me unless I spoke directly to him, and even _then_ all I would be rewarded with were those goddamn smirks and ridiculous monosyllabic answers. Every other time I saw him, whether in passing between classes or after school in the parking lot, I had the distinct feeling he was avoiding me like the plague. The fucking _plague_!

I fumed as I threw on my clothes for the day - ending up in jeans and a white sweater. It didn't matter what I wore, anyway. By Friday, I had been desperate enough to show up to school in a miniskirt. A miniskirt in Forks, for christ's sake! I had frozen my ass off, and my tits could have cut through glass - which had been exactly the point. But it hadn't mattered - Cullen hadn't paid me any more mind than if I had shown up in a potato sack.

I sighed as I made my way downstairs, thanking God that Charlie preferred working on the weekends - there was no way I could fake my way through a conversation this morning. I rummaged around in the kitchen for a few moments, then plopped down in a chair, drumming my fingers dejectedly against the table top. I knew most girls would have given up the chase by now - this shit was getting sour. But now it had turned into a matter of principle. I _refused_ to be ignored. I thumped my fist on the table, then sighed again as I pressed my fingers to my temples. I couldn't let him get to me this way - the game was far from over. In fact, today was sure to present me with a shitload of opportunities. I would be with him all evening, along with sleeping in his own goddamn house. _Something_ was going to happen tonight, and _nothing_ was going to get in my way.

The horn of Rosalie's BMW broke me out of my furious daze, and I quickly grabbed my purse and ran out the door. Rose waved at me as I approached, and Alice immediately started bouncing - I was going to have to ask her where she kept her battery pack. After receiving a bone-crushing hug from the tiny little thing, Rose gunned the engine and we peeled out of the driveway, eager to get our asses into a real city.

The drive was full of meaningless chit-chat - who was dating who, who had broken up with who, and, ultimately, who had ended up with a broken nose. It wasn't until we were sailing along the highway that I decided to make my first move.

"So, what are the boys doing today?" I asked, nonchalantly.

"What they always do," Alice replied. "Drinking, smoking, and video games. They'll be tons of fun when we get home - I love Jas with a little liquor in him!"

I snorted as Rosalie rolled her eyes. _A little_?

Rosalie, always quick on the uptake, decided to delve further. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering what I can expect for tonight," I replied. This was true, but not in the way I was letting on. The only thing I wanted to know was if Edward was going to take me against a wall or from behind. Because one of the two was going to fucking happen.

"Oh, we're going to have _so_ much fun!" Alice squealed, oblivious to our underlying tones. She immediately started rambling about manicures, pedicures, and facials, while Rosalie stayed quiet, her sly smirk in place.

Seattle was definitely a breath of fresh air - finally, some fucking _life_. First and foremost, I grabbed a Starbucks, then sucked that bitch down as we meandered through the streets. We stopped at a few shops, and Rosalie and I pretty much stood by while Alice bought out the store - I swear, that girl was going to single-handedly boost the stock market. But it wasn't until I saw the pink and red store on the corner that I felt my first flash of enthusiasm for the trip.

Fredericks. _Perfect_.

Apparently, Rose was on the same page.

"Alice, let's go to Fredericks. Emmett has been bugging me for a new garter belt for weeks now."

Alice instantly agreed, and I couldn't hide my smile as we sashayed through the door. As Alice and Rosalie headed straight to a display towards the back of the store, I took my time wandering through the racks, eyeing everything closely while a fantastic plan began to brew in my mind. Obviously, I would be bringing my purchases home - to Edward's house, as it were. But I couldn't stroll in with bag full of lingerie - I would look either taken or desperate. But if I were to walk in with something small. . .something that he might just happen to see. . .oh, say. . . .

And then I saw them. Crotchless. Fucking. Panties.

My inner demon patted me on the back as I grabbed a particularly sexy, black pair. I held it delicately between my fingers, then glanced towards Alice and Rosalie. I couldn't make this too obvious, so I grabbed a simple black thong off a nearby shelf and headed towards the register. After I had bought the goods, Rosalie made her purchase, and we all sauntered happily out of the store.

"So, what did you get, Bella?" Alice chirped.

I carefully pulled the black thong out of the bag for her inspection. "Just a thong, I needed a new one to go with that skirt I wore on Tuesday."

Both Alice and Rosalie nodded their approval, and I slipped the thong back into the bag, with no one the wiser as to what else lay hidden inside.

* * *

It was dark before us girls turned down the drive to Edward's house. His house was beautiful, just as I had expected, but the inside was absolutely stunning. Everything was decorated in various shades of white - white walls, pale floors, cream furniture. It would have seemed dull, except for the black Baby Grand piano, sitting on a raised portion of flooring that was nestled into a bay window. _I wonder who plays_?

"Boys, we're ho-ome!" Alice trilled.

A stampede of thumping footsteps sounded from the ceiling before both Emmett and Jasper appeared at the top of the stairs. Alice wasted no time in darting up the stairs, then slammed directly into Jasper's body. Conversely, Emmett thundered down the stairs towards Rosalie, who was waiting with one eyebrow quirked.

"Rosie! Baby!" Emmett boomed as he held his arms open for a hug. Rosalie's pretentious smirk melted for a minute, and she hugged him back before eyeing him closely.

"What have you dumbasses been up to?" she demanded.

"The usual, of course," Emmett replied with a ridiculous grin. Apparently, this was the correct answer, as Rosalie nodded and strode out of the room with Emmett hot on her heels.

A sharp giggle brought my attention back upstairs, and I turned to see Jasper chasing Alice around the corner, her shirt already disheveled. Extracurricular, indeed.

"Don't even fucking _touch_ my room you horny son of a bitch," a velvety voice warned from upstairs. As he turned the corner and headed downstairs, I put on my sexiest smile and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Does that happen often, then?" I asked, coyly.

"More than you fucking want to know," Edward grumbled. "Hell, more than _I_ fucking want to know," he added with a chuckle.

I laughed along with him, then met him at the foot of the stairs. He nodded his usual greeting at me, then headed for the couch. Once he was seated, he let his legs splay out lazily while his fingers locked behind his head, and I once again wondered how someone so sexy could be so damn frigid. It went against nature.

I sauntered up to him, then sat down right next to him, making sure my tits brushed his arm as I did.

"So tell me, who's the winning couple? Alice and Jasper, or Em and Rose?" I teased.

"Alice and Jasper, without a doubt," Edward responded, while shooting me a sly glance, complete with his sexy smirk.

"Emmett and Rose may put on their fucking airs, but Alice and Jasper fuck them under the table. Of course, they'd be willing to _fuck_ under the table, too," he winked.

I grinned, then leaned into him, bringing my lips right to his ear.

"And what about you? You're obviously no saint. . ." I trailed off, then began strumming my fingers on his knee. Edward chuckled lightly.

"Ever feel like giving them a run for their money?" I hinted.

"Who says I haven't?" Edward responded, flashing me his wicked smirk.

What a cold motherfucker. _I fucking love that shit_.

I brushed my lips against his ear, then blew softly on his lobe as I began to trail my fingers up from his knee.

"You know, Edward, I think -"

But I didn't get to finish. Edward immediately stood up, shrugging my body off of his, then turned to me with an unreadable expression.

"_I_ think I'm going to get my ass another beer. Do you want one or what?" he deadpanned, completely unaffected.

I could feel my anger reach a boiling point as I looked at him in disbelief. The _fuck _was his problem? He was _going_ to tell me, because this shit had to stop. I launched myself upwards, more than ready to tear him a new fucking asshole. But as soon as I stood, Edward made his move towards the kitchen, accidentally brushing his body against mine as he tried to sidestep past me.

And that's when I felt it.

_Sweet fucking Jesus_.

Edward Cullen. Edward Motherfucking Cullen. Had a _raging_ hard on. For _me_.

_Well, hell yes_.

My anger dissipated as my eyes widened, and I snapped by head up to smirk at him. His face was the epitome of calm as he glanced at me, shrugged, then headed towards the kitchen.

So it was going to be that way, was it? I followed right after him, letting my heels click pointedly on the wood floor. This was ridiculous - I _knew_ he wanted me. The evidence of that had just poked me right in my goddamn stomach. So why was he insisting on holding out on me? What else could he _possibly_ want from me? I sighed as I looked down at myself. Of all the days to throw on a boring, white sweater. . .

And then it hit me. My _white_ sweater.

_I am a regular fucking Einstein_.

I followed Edward into the kitchen, smirking devilishly as he reached into the fridge, popped open a cold one, and handed it right to me. I raised it to my lips, maintaining eye contact with him while I took a deep pull, then took a carefully planned step towards him.

And then I tripped.

I tripped right in front of him, making sure my freezing beer sloshed all over my white sweater. And that shit looked damn real, if I do say so myself.

I gasped innocently as the beer soaked through my sweater, revealing my tits in all their high-beamed glory, while Edward looked on, jaw clenched.

"Oh, God!" I exclaimed. "I'm all _wet_!"

Edward let out a frustrated sigh as he rolled his eyes.

_Whatever_._ You know you like it_.

"I'll show you to the downstairs bathroom," he sighed.

"Edward, I'd like to clean up somewhere a little more. . ._private_," I simpered, "surely you have a shower upstairs? I'll need to borrow a shirt, anyways." That shit was far from true - I had a whole new outfit waiting in my overnight bag. But if he was going to play the game, I was going to play it right back.

Without answering, Edward brushed past me. I followed after him, annoyed that he was still holding up this damn charade, and grabbed my purse off the table before we headed up the stairs. Seriously, this guy must have thought his shit was golden. _It's a dick, Edward_. _Not the fucking holy grail_. Edward led me to the third floor, then down a long hallway until he stopped in front of the last door. To my extreme delight, he opened the door to reveal his bedroom, then gestured for me to go inside. I obliged, swishing my hips as I walked through the doorway, then turned around to face him.

"Where's your bathroom?" I asked, wondering how long we were going to keep up these ridiculous pretences.

Edward gestured to a door in the back, right corner as he dug through a chest of drawers, then turned to hand me a black, button up shirt.

I headed into the bathroom, clutching my purse tightly to me. It was time to bring out the big guns.

I hurriedly peeled off my sweater, then rinsed my chest off before stripping off my jeans. I pulled his shirt around my shoulders, buttoning all but the top three buttons, leaving my legs and a good amount of cleavage exposed. _Thank you, Edward, and your affinity for button-up shirts_. I grinned at my reflection as I fluffed my hair around my shoulders, then reached into my purse, pulling out the Fredericks bag from earlier today. There was no way in hell that Edward Cullen would be able to resist this. I reached inside the bag, grabbed the two pairs of panties, then opened the bathroom door to lean against the door jamb.

Edward was sitting on a long, black couch, pinching the bridge of his nose. As soon as he heard the door open, his head snapped towards me, and I watched in delight as his eyes widened at my apparel while that gorgeous, cocky smirk spread across his face.

"Edward, I have a problem, and I think I need a man's opinion on this one," I purred, then held up my hands, each clutching a pair of panties.

"What do you think, a classic thong? Or crotchless? Simplicity, as you know, has it's advantages," I winked. "But on the other hand, crotchless has it's own advantages too, now doesn't it?"

The smirk never left his face as he shrugged at me. "Doesn't really matter. Either way, Bella." Then, the motherfucker turned to thumb through some books on the shelf next to him. Fucking _books! _

_Calm, cool, and collected, Bella_. _You can still save this_.

"You're right, Edward," I nodded, as he turned to look at me quizzically.

"Panties are overrated, anyway."

I purposely dropped the panties to the floor, then glanced at my purse behind me. A bottle of lotion was sticking out of it like a fucking beacon, and I snatched it immediately.

"However, I'm afraid I need your help with one more thing," I lilted, innocently.

Edward lifted one eyebrow in question.

I held up the bottle of lotion, arching an eyebrow right back at him. "A girl's gotta have smooth skin, now doesn't she? Care to help me with those hard-to-reach places?"

Edward shrugged - what was _with_ this guy - and gestured for me to sit down, completely fucking unaffected. I called bullshit. There was no way this guy could possibly be as calm as he was letting on. Unless, of course, he had a serious fucking problem, which was proving more plausible with every passing minute. I walked towards him, then dropped my body slowly beside him, turning so that my back was pressed against his chest.

"Here you go," I sang, then reached back to hand him the lotion. "Thanks a lot, by the way. I _really_ needed this."

"Happy to help, Bella," Edward murmured as I pulled the shoulders of his shirt down to my upper arms.

I heard him squeeze my peaches-and-cream scented lotion onto his hand, then, to my utter fucking astonishment, he actually started to rub the lotion onto my shoulders. I waited as I let his fingers rub the lotion into my skin, growing more pissed by the second. Was he really not even going to _try_ for first base? After waiting a few more minutes, I realized that this was all I was going to get.

_You needed a golden invitation, dickweed_? _Well, you fucking had one_.

I stood up quickly without even glancing at him, then stormed into the bathroom. I pulled on my jeans, grabbed my shit, then, with one murderous glare at the cockblocking son of a bitch, I marched my raging ass right out of his room, slamming the door behind me.

I stormed down the stairs, my anger growing with every step. I was fucking _outraged_. How was it _possible_ that Edward continued to resist me? This shit was starting to defy logic. My mind flashed again towards Monday's conversation in the parking lot. Clearly, I had been right - there was no doubt in my mind that something bigger was going down here.

The rest of the gang was already assembled in the living room, passing a bottle of Jack back and forth while a movie played in the background. As I strode into the room, all four pairs of eyes widened at the sight of Edward's shirt draped over my body.

"What happened, Bella?" Emmett asked, almost giddy with excitement as he leapt off the couch.

_Yep_. _Definitely something going on_.

"Nothing," I shrugged coolly, "I spilled beer on my sweater, and Edward was kind enough to lend me a shirt." I held up my soiled sweater as proof.

All four faces fell at my innocent explanation, further proving my theory. As I settled on the couch next to Alice, I snagged the bottle from her and took a much-needed gulp. I was going to have to get to the bottom of this - very fucking soon. Because _no man_ refused Bella Swan. I would have to back off for a while - let Edward think he was in the clear. But the moment I figured this shit out, all bets would be off. Because I _would_ have him - I was fucking _determined_.

_Sleep while you can, Cullen_. _Because this game is far from over_.

* * *

**Muahahahaha. God I love KatieBelle, don't you?! Make sure you hop, skip, jump, and fuck it - RUN over to her profile and let her know, would you? My genius partner needs -and deserves- the lovin! It would seem that our resilient little Bella has been snubbed. Or, has she? Something tells me there is some ... _interesting_ perspective for this predicament coming up. I wonder what our horny little at-wit's-end Edward is going to do next, with Bella sleeping right under his own roof, don't you? Ask and ye shall receive, kittens! Remember, asking is paramount to that equation. ;)**

**And, as always, a big thank you to my Smutmate, Debussy-This, for being the huggable, snuggable, loveable raunch-fiend that she is. Your pimpage of this story warms my loins, and I will do everything I can to make sure we live up to your expectations. Including monkey sex. I'm a giver, what can I say. I lurve yer guts! Jailbait and whiskey, anyone?**


	7. Know When to Fold 'Em

**A/N: Oh. Em. Eff. Gee. It's been what, twelve years? Thirty seven? You guys, my life has been epic amounts of crazy. I won't bore you with the details, but suffice to say, it was apeshit. But, the hiatus is OVER AND DONE WITH! Thank you, thank you, thank you, each one of you, for all the reviews and messages, and PMs, and even to you, you rude jerks that sent me mean ones. Thank you so much for sticking with us, and I hope this chapter will make up for it! ;) Katie and I have BOTH gotten our shit ironed out, so updates will be regular again from now on. Again, THANK YOU guys for sticking around, and PLEASE review for this chapter - I wanna make sure I haven't lost my mojo. We love you!**

**Over and out, **

**V**

* * *

_I hate my life._

_I hate my god damn life._

_I REALLY fucking hate my god damn life._

I was lying in bed Saturday morning, my expensive ass goose-down comforter thrown haphazardly on the floor. I stared with disdain at the ridiculous, thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets tented prominently over my raging morning wood. _God fucking damn you, Bella Swan._

I huffed scornfully and thought about how she'd spent the remainder of the week - making my life a blistering fucking inferno of my own personal hell. Tuesday she showed up in the tightest most form-fitting skirt I'd ever seen in my life. The stupid thing didn't even show any skin - it stopped at mid-fucking-calf. It was the bane of my existence. I hated that god damn skirt and thought seriously of stealing it and setting it ablaze. I wanted to build it a shrine and force commoners to pray to its magnificence – it was the altar upon which the male population of Forks was free to worship Bella's divine ass. It was ruining my life. I wanted to marry it.

And that was only the beginning. Every day afterwards, Bella only became increasingly more visually appealing. And to top it off, she was downright fucking _adorable_. And that's saying something, because Edward Motherfucking Pimphand Cullen doesn't even _say _shit like "adorable". She fit right in with our group, keeping up with warp-speed Alice, talking music and booze with Jasper, staying unruffled at Emmett's crude ass jokes, even permeating the ice shield that was Rosalie with that disgustingly cute, disarming smile. She could hold her god damn liquor, damn near drink Jasper the Fish under the table, knew the difference between Nazism, Communism, and Fascism, and was able to explain the convergence of the three in post-war Europe. She caught my underhanded asshole jokes, threw them back at me with an extra serving of _bitch_ on the side, and still laughed that throaty laugh of hers at the end of it all, and didn't take anything personally. She always smelled good, had legs to fucking kill for, and made Jessica Stanley cry on more than one occasion. She was Satan incarnate. I had to get inside her. I was Job and she was the fucking plague thrown at me to test my faith – or in this case, undying love for the Volvo (which is more important anyway) - and it was seriously working. Against me.

She flirted with me fucking incessantly. I don't even go for bitches that make it too easy, but it really wasn't like she was _throwing_ it at me – it was more of an issued challenge. And uh, do you know me? I love a fucking challenge. I am Edward Just-Owned-the-Fuck-Out-of-You Cullen – bring your game face, bitches.

But this wasn't a challenge I could _accept, _and that shit stung. This broad was fucking killing me. Every sly glance, each perfectly punctuated giggle, every furtive touch was chipping away at my resolve, just as clearly as if she showed the fuck up with a hammer and a mallet. I mean really, who needs a car any god damn way? Our planet is too polluted as is. Honestly, we should all give up our cars, go green, ride bikes to school and work, because we're destroying the ozone la- _oh, fucking hell._

_I am ridiculous. I am befuddled. I am fucking smitten. _

_I am Edward Fucked-Your-Sister-on-Your-Parents'-Bed Cullen. I do not get _smit- _what the fuck is the past tense of smitten? Smote? Smoten? Smited? No wait, that's not it. What the fuck ever. I am not smitten._

Oh hell. Anything that makes me forget proper word usage is bad god damn news. And it was that precise second - that universe-altering moment in time - that was when I knew. Lying there in bed, glaring at my throbbing dick and hating its refusal to just shut up and go the fuck to sleep, I knew that Bella Swan wasn't just a Biblical plague wrought upon me by a vengeful god. She was like fucking _EBOLA. _Liquefying my guts from the inside second I'm god damn dandy, fucking a different chick daily, getting sucked off in between classes, and the next minute she's rolling around naked in my head and my cock is in a cage match to the death with my zipper, trying to fight its way out of my god damn pants and I'm watching Emmett driving away in my fucking car, with a gay pride sticker on my bumper, because that's just some shit that fucking Emmett would do.

If I wasn't so fond of my magnificent cock, I would have smacked the arrogant bastard for taunting me. Instead I glared resentfully and gave it a stern talking to. That'll teach him.

When that didn't work, I decided to take an Arctic-style shower.

Standing there, shivering under the icy spray but refusing to be a fucking pussy and move, I thought of potential defensive plays. If I was going to keep my car, I'd need a serious fucking plan of action. As I was attempting to strategize and failing miserably, the most terrifying realization I'd ever had struck me. Might as well have been a fucking frying pan to the back of the head, like you see in cartoons. I'd have little fucking stars and bluebirds and shit swimming around my fucking face.

_I'd have to see Bella tonight_. _In my house._

She was coming over for a fucking _sleepover. _I glanced downward, wondering how in the fuck it was humanly possible to still have a semi when contemplating public transportation under a shower I was reasonably sure was frosting up the glass in my bathroom. All because Bella's stupid milky smooth face popped into my mind. And so what if I saw it thrown back onto my pillows while she panted for breath and screamed my name in wanton ecstasy? Just because she has a perfect fucking rack and the juiciest thighs known to man and the ass to-

_I am so fucked._

_I am so royally fucked-in-half sideways._

_And not in the good way, that's for god damn sure. I hate my life._

* * *

After I showered and dressed, I decided to do the only logical thing when trying to avoid thinking about monkey sexin' the ovaries right out of one's dream girl –get hammered out of my mind and watch porn. It's a very scientifically-proven effective method for de-Bella-ing the brain. I heard it on Dr. Phil or some shit. And by "Dr. Phil", I mean I completely fucking made it up because I'm horny and angry. See? Logical. That's me.

I was trying to decide between _Backdoor Sluts_ _9_ and _Cum Guzzlers Part 14 _when I heard a fucking stampede bounding up the stairs and knocking shit off the walls as it came. _Ah. Emmett and Jasper. _

In typical Jasper fashion, he came barreling through the door, shaggy hair strewn about his face, missing one shoe, belt crooked and missing a couple of loops, stumbling drunkenly with a goofy grin.

Emmett's fucking hat was cocked to the side like a douchebag, and his shirt was stretched out as if someone had grabbed it and pulled. Likely obtained in a retarded foot race up three flights of stairs with a drunken cheating Jasper, who does things like grab the back of your shirt till you stumble and then hops the fuck on and piggybacks you for 20 stairs before leaping over your head, kicking you to throw you off balance as he goes. I have scars from that shit, so I know from experience. Fucking Jasper.

Emmett's fucking megaphone voice boomed from over Jasper's head, "Cullen! How are your balls, bitch?"

Refusing to encourage his childlike behavior, and instead electing to respond in a more dignified, adult manner, I spit back, "Still bigger than yours, fuckface." I'm really quite eloquent.

He guffawed loudly as he shoved Jasper with one giant Bratwurst hand into the wall and plopped his mammoth ass on my couch. Poor no-doubt-already-drunk Jasper just grinned again as he windmilled wildly, trying to keep from landing ass over elbows again. He succeeded, but only marginally, and that was with a heavy _kathunk_ against the wall.

I couldn't help but chuckle at his dumb ass as I asked, "You okay there, Jas?"

The bastard just leaned nonchalantly against the wall as he drawled slowly in that dumb Southern accent, "Never better, Cullen. Just holdin' up yer wall here."

I tried, really fucking valiantly, to hold off on the inevitable eye roll but of course, failed miserably. Jasper's fucking ridiculous, let's tell the truth here.

He ambled over to me and eyed the DVD's in my hands. "_Back Door Sluts 9, _Cullen? Really? You're into that shit?"

"I was actually gonna go with _Cum Guzzlers. _Opinions, fellas?"

Emmett had swiveled his hat around so that it was now facing forward and pulled it ridiculously low down over his eyes. He lifted his giant fucking brontosaurus head up so he could see me from under the dumb hat and grinned that cocky grin he used to melt panties off pre-Rosalie, dimples all a-flashin'.

"Well, as much as I love me some back door sluts, there's nothin' in all the world like a cum guzzler. Jazz?"

Still standing next to me, Jasper pulled out all the typical Jasper stops and in a move that defied logic and gravity, crossed one leg across his knee, in a mock-dignified gesture. He cocked his head to the side and stroked his chin as if he were deep in thought.

"Well, gentlemen, I feel that the essence of each film exhibits its own merits, and while both are aesthetically and erotically satisfying, the choice does indeed lie in a matter of personal preference. For those with a weaker stomach, _Backdoor Sluts _could, in fact, be detrimental to one's libido. Conversely, for those with a more risqué appetite, it is much more sexually suitable. And let us be honest here, my crude compatriots. . . everybody loves a fuckin' cum guzzler. So bring on the thirsty bitches!"

Emmett looked both confused and almost aroused while I was balancing precariously on the edge of shock. Not because Jasper is stupid, quite the contrary; Jasper is dangerously intelligent. But mostly because he was standing on one fucking foot during that entire god damn speech and didn't end up face first on the floor again.

He did the Jasper chuckle and flung the vetoed movie across the room like a Frisbee. I popped in our selected choice and sank onto the couch, just as I remembered I hadn't bothered to go raid Daddy Dearest's booze cabinet.

"Gentlemen, I need to acquire us some refreshment."

Jasper reached into his jacket and carefully extracted a full-size bottle of Jack Daniel's. Why did I not see this shit coming?

"Thanks, Jas. Nicely done," I said, grinning as I reached for the bottle.

He just grinned back as he reached into the other side of his jacket and pulled out another full size bottle, from its perfectly-tucked, inconspicuous location.

I laughed as I took the bottle from him and set it down on my perfectly restored antique coffee table. He kept grinning like a fool and reached into his front jeans pocket and procured a flask. He tossed it to Emmett who shook it and said, "Full already? Why thank you, my good drunk man."

This liver-dead motherfucker, here. "Two bottles and a flask, Jasper? That's almost excessive, even for you."

He held up one surprisingly steady finger and reached into his other front jeans pocket and pulled out another flask. I was about to speak when he raised it again and just shook his head, messy shaggy hair falling into his eyes all over again.

I watched, dumbfounded, as he pulled another flask from his back right pocket, and another again from his back left.

He smiled a fully satisfied smile and winked.

"Jasper Drunk-as-Fuck Whitlock. Were you planning on liquoring up an entire battalion? That was unfuckingnecessary."

He arched an eyebrow and glared with mock severity as he crooked an angry finger at me. "Boy Scout motto bitch, always be prepared!"

I eyed him sardonically, "Jasper, you were never a Boy Scout."

His stern face melted back into his drunk, infectious grin. "But I'm all about them god damn s'mores! Drink up, bitches!"

I laughed and reached for what was to be the first of many drinks.

* * *

We were roughly four hours, two bottles, three flasks, and two pornographic films into the afternoon when I seriously considered the merits of trying to slit Emmett's throat and exactly how far I would get before his inhuman catcher's mitts would manhandle me into oblivion.

Jasper was enlightening us with his usual insight, which was dangerously close to revealing the meaning of life, while Emmett was doing his best to crush my soul, hopes, and dreams.

We were watching a particularly attractive young brunette woman with a delightful smile and eyes. . . okay, so there was a sexy fucking bitch with Bella doe eyes slurping a cock like her life depended on it, when Emmett said something so horrible, it bears repeating.

"Damn. In the right light, that chick could _be_ Bella. You ever check her for tramp stamps, Cullen, just to make sure?"

I quit fucking breathing. And then I couldn't stop breathing too fast. Because he was right. Almost. Her hips weren't quite as full, her thighs not as delicious. Her ass was all right, but not as plump as Bella's, and her waist wasn't as tiny and delightfully yummy. Her voice wasn't quite throaty enough, because _I'm sure Bella moans differently than that. I bet she'll almost growl when she rides my cock and she rocks those perfect hips back and forth on me. Her tits are fuller too, heavy and firm and fucking perky all by themselves and I bet they're sexier when they're still wet from my mouth. Shit._

So I said, "Fuck you, Emmett."

Emmett said, "Fuck Bella, Cullen, so I can drive off in my new car."

Jasper said, "Fuck both of you assholes, 'cuz if you kill my buzz, I'll cut out both your fuckin' spleens."

We were only half another flask and two more cum guzzlers into the day when we heard my front door open. God dammit.

My heart rate picked up exponentially and my adrenaline spiked. I contemplated whether a jump out the third story window would kill me or just leave me very injured with a raging hard on.

Emmett grinned deviously and rubbed his hands together in anticipation, wiggling his eyebrows delightedly.

Jasper furrowed his brow in concentration and stared at his feet, crossed at the ankles on my coffee table and said confusedly, "Where the fuck is my other shoe?"

* * *

Both of those drunk traitorous bastards took off running at warp speed, while I took a minute to dispose of the graphic DVD case and glare angrily at my cock and threaten it with cold showers for the rest of both our natural lives if it didn't go all hibernation really fucking quickly.

As I rounded the corner to the first floor, I heard Alice squeal and Jasper's lopsided one-shoed footsteps. _Oh hell._

"Don't even fucking _touch_ my room, you horny son of a bitch."

I looked down the stairs, and there she was, all sex and candy and peaches and shower sex and Heaven in a white sweater that probably showed her nipples if I could get her under the right lighting, and smiling at me in that coy way that makes my dick jerk when she said, "Does that happen often then?"

I made some remark about it being entirely too often while I focused on walking in a way that didn't display my saluting penis.

I walked straight to the couch while she trailed behind me, and as I plopped onto it, I tried not to focus on her smell or whatever the fuck she gives off that makes my brain melt and my cock hard and threatens my fucking automotive existence.

I don't remember what I said, or what she said that got us there, but the next thing I knew, she was sliding her delicate little fingers up my knee like I imagined she'd do to my cock and her lips were at my ear and her warm breath was brushing across it and that fucking pissed me off because it wasn't the head of my dick.

"You know, Edward, I think - "

_Emmett driving away in my Volvo, "Barbie Girl" blaring from my epic system, pink flag flapping in the wind._

_Fuck. THAT._

I hopped off the couch like there was a fucking fire under my ass. In my best _I am Edward Doesn't-Ride-The-Fucking-Bus Cullen_ voice, I said, "_I_ think I'm going to get my ass another beer. Do you want one or what?"

She stood up slowly, just as I was walking toward the kitchen, and some luscious part of her rubbed up against my painfully throbbing erection, and just knowing it was _Bella _made the slight contact painfully fucking delicious.A lesser man would have spontaneously orgasmed. _Not good, not good, epic fucking ungood. Ungood? Oh fuck._

Her eyes widened and she glanced up at me with the sexiest fucking smirk that made me want to fuck it right off of her face, in the naughtiest, sweatiest way. Obviously that wasn't possible, so I did the only logical thing. I shrugged and high tailed it like a fucking pussy into the kitchen.

I yanked out a couple of beers and just as I was taking a long, much needed pull of my own, she tripped and sloshed beer all over her white fucking sweater. _Well look at that. I was right. You can see her nipples in the right light. Oh fuck. Now her nipples taste like beer. I hate walking, I hate walking, I hate walking, I hate walking . . . _

"Oh, God! I'm all _wet!", _she yelped. _You're god damn right, you're wet. I am Edward Floods-Your-Panties-Biblical-Style Cullen. Not helping, dickhead!_

I mumbled something about showing her to the bathroom farthest away from my bed, but she insisted on cleaning up in my bathroom. _So God, do you just want to get this over with and strike me down now? Is all of this really necessary? Cut the bullshit, big guy, and smite me now._

She followed me up the stairs and into my bedroom, and asked where the bathroom was although it was fairly fucking obvious, and I handed her a button up shirt and pointed.

She disappeared through it, _thank God, _leaving me to wallow in my own pitiful, wonderful lust. Damn it.

The door opened softly and Bella stood there, in the doorway of my bathroom, in nothing but one of my black button-up shirts. _Holy fucking shit_. The material was thin and it clung to her bare breasts in a way that I had no idea was fucking possible. They were perfectly perky sans bra, just _up there_ and her legs were bare and more fucking shapely and smooth than my numerous raunchy fantasies had even thought about hinting at, and it took all of my strength to not go bury myself in between them. So I just smirked at her.

Because nothing says "I almost want you more than every ounce of my pride, self-respect, dignity, and vehicle" like an asshole smirk. I think.

Then, I honest to god would love to be able to recall what she said, but I couldn't even if I were paid to, because I didn't hear a fucking word of it. She was holding up a thong in one hand, and crotchless panties in the other, and fuck if my ears were working, because my cock was doing enough listening for all of us. So I said what any dumbfounded man in my position would say. "Doesn't matter, Bella." Because _Do you want it standing up or bent over_ just didn't send the right message. And because my hands were fucking aching to throw her down on the floor and pound the fuck out of her pussy, I put them on the books closest to me instead and pretended I remembered how to read.

And then she emerged from my bathroom again, holding a bottle of lotion. I saw that she was speaking, but all I heard was "_Oh, Edward, fuck me here and now on your floor, you studly, manly, ruggedly handsome, sex-god."_

So like the fucking rocket scientist I am, I shrugged, and as she sat down, I honest to God shook my head like I was trying to fling fucking water out of my ears like a Labrador Retriever.

She thanked me for my help, and I think I said something about being happy to, but I wasn't really able to comprehend anything at that point, because she was sliding my shirt down over her shoulders and upper arms, and sitting between my legs and grinning at me over her shoulder and _fuck me her skin is creamier than I thought and I want to see what it looks like with my cum on it. _

I squeezed the lotion into my hand and the visual really wasn't fucking helping because it reminded me of coming, which was precisely what I was trying to keep my mind _off _of, and severely unfuckinghelpful was the fact that the lotion might as well have been _Eau de Bella. _It was the fucking essence of her. Peaches. _I could eat a peach for hours. _Cream. _I could make her cream on my cock. Eau de Son of a Fucking Bitch, I am Edward Pedals-a-Schwinn Cullen. _

I massaged the lotion gently into her skin, careful to keep my fingers away from anything that could potentially forfeit my keys. _Bella's long, elegant neck. Sucking on Bella's long elegant neck. Bella turning her head to the side. Bella turning her head to the side to suck my balls. Bella fingering herself while sucking my balls. Licking Bella's fingers clean. Bella on all fours. Bella on all fours on the hood of my Volvo. My . . . Volvo. Emmett in my Volvo. Emmett with rainbow flowered leis hanging from the rearview mirror of my Volvo singing "Macarena". Fuck. _

So as I sat behind my sexual dream girl, with a ragingly painful hard cock and her up against me in nothing but one of my shirts and my hands on her body, I recited the lyrics to the Macarena. I'm a manly man.

After a few minutes of my own personal heaven and hell rolled into one, Bella sprang up without a word and stormed into the bathroom, only to reappear seconds later with pants on and her stuff thrown over one arm, glaring at me fiercely. She stared daggers at my head as marched off and slammed my door with a resounding _bang. _

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

I heard her stomp her way down the stairs and the sound of her footsteps receding quietly, while I just sat there, throbbing and stunned and aching and pretty fucking impressed with myself, to tell the truth. Mostly because I didn't maul her. And when I say maul, I mean growling and everything. _Fuck she smells good. _

_Wait… what the fuck just happened? _I pawed through my hair trying to analyze this new situation and realized I couldn't fucking think. _Oh right, all the blood in my body is my engorged penis. Makes sense. None left for my brain. _

With a huff and a "fuck it", I started painfully to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes flung across the counters as I headed for the shower. I pretended I didn't even see the hot water knob as I dove, headfirst, into a spray so cold, it stung like thousands of needles. I refused to let my mind focus on anything but the pain and the cold, concentrating only on how fucking miserable I was. _So fucking cold. God damn that Bella. Bella cold. Bella cold and wet. Bella biting that pretty fucking lip, soaking wet, with her nipples all tight and puckered from the cold. . . FUCK. _

My plan was obviously fucking backfiring and I needed an alternative. So pissed I almost broke the fucking thing off, I cranked the knob hard to the side and jumped into the chilled air. I grabbed a towel from the rack angrily and wrapped it around my waist as I padded into my bedroom. _What the fuck am I going to do? It's been a fucking week and I'm ready to fucking kill myself. _

_Fuck THAT. I am Edward Make-Bitches-Beg-for-the-Cock Cullen. I do not off myself over a broad. _

I huffed again as I sank down onto the couch, letting my legs splay out lazily in front of me and tried to ignore my dick, unhindered by the shower in its quest to ruin my life. I glanced at the door. Locked. Hmmm.

_Well, maybe just a little, just to take the edge off._

Cursing my own weakness, I reached down slowly, my body so tense that even though it was my own hand, the first slight touch to my cock through the towel made it jerk slightly. _Jesus Fuck Cullen, calm down. _

Experimentally, I squeezed a little harder. I used the palm of my hand to create some friction along the side, trailing it slowly but forcefully across my dick. I let the heel of my hand put pressure on the head and almost gasped at the contact. _Fuck. _

My head fell back involuntarily and lolled to the side. I opened my eyes briefly, and that's when I saw it. _Bella's lotion. God I love that smell._

I grabbed it, and as I looked at the bottle, I couldn't help but see her. In the skirt that I still couldn't decide whether to destroy or enshrine. In a beer covered white sweater in my kitchen. In nothing but my shirt, holding up a pair of crotchless panties. Sitting in front of me with her shoulders uncovered and her head tilted to the side, giving me more access. _Fuck. _

In what was probably one of the stupidest moves I have ever made, I flipped open the top and inhaled deeply. _Peach juice dripping down my chin and those chocolate cupcakes with the icing in the middle and macadamia nut cookies and fuzzy baby puppies and the original Transformers cartoons before the Michael Bay disaster – fuck. _The smell assaulted me, and had I thought it were possible, I would have sworn I felt myself stiffen even more at the attack. I couldn't help it. It was everything great all at once and I don't know why the fuck I did it, but the next thing I knew, I was squeezing some into my palm, inhaling Bella all around me.

I closed my eyes and with my other hand, loosened the towel so the ends of it were pooled around each of my hips, and my cock sprang free. Fully aware of what I was doing but completely fucking unable to stop, my Bella lotion covered hand drifted slowly downwards, coming to rest at the base of my cock. Without thinking, I grabbed my dick firmly, and slowly stroked my hand upward, distributing as much of Bella as I could get on my cock evenly, twisting my wrist just a bit at the head before sliding my hand quickly down to the base again. I did it over and over again, seeing her in my mind, smelling her, feeling the hand up and down my throbbing dick, slow up, twist, jerk fast down. _Fuck. So good. _

I brought my hand upwards, swiping my thumb quickly across the tip and in quick circles on the underside of the head, building up an almost painfully delicious fucking friction. _God, Bella._

I wrapped my fist around my shaft and saw Bella's pretty little lips wrapped around my dick, and my hips involuntarily lifted.

"Oh, _fuck_," I breathed.

Keeping my eyes closed, and my hand still, save for the one cupping my balls, I pumped my hips swiftly upwards, forcing my cock through the tight ring that my hand created, seeing myself fucking Bella's mouth.

"_God. So good."_

I stroked down and squeezed my hand around the base, grabbing harder, pumping harder, sliding my hand up faster, faster, stroking longer, faster, _faster_. . .

"Oh fuck. Coming. Fuck, so good. _FUCK."_

My world stopped spinning and stars shot up behind my eyelids as I saw myself pouring cum into Bella's mouth as her head bobbed wildly, swallowing every drop of it, her throat working as she did. My entire body clenched, my cock twitching in my hand as I came forcefully, shooting onto my chest and stomach.

_Jesus Fuck._

I panted heavily and shook my head slightly as I came back to myself and looked down. I grinned as I realized at least I had a towel handy.

I wiped myself up and lazily tossed the towel into the hamper. No need for the evidence to be too god damn obvious. Exhausted, momentarily sated, and still butt ass naked, I peeled back my covers and slid in between my sheets.

I wondered briefly about buying stock in whatever company produced that lotion Bella used. I had a feeling their sales were going to skyrocket over the next thirty three days.

* * *

I awoke with a start, realizing that there was a loud pounding coming from the direction of my door. _Shit._

"Fuck you, Emmett. Go rot in hell and take Rosalie with you, you inconsiderate prick!"

Another loud thump hit the door and the sexiest angry voice I have ever heard rang from the other side, "It's not Emmett, you asshole. Open the fucking door."

_Shit. _I glanced down at my morning wood, already taut and begging for Bella. Of fucking course.

I hollered back groggily, "It's locked and I can't get to the door."

I heard a brief metallic clinking noise, and all of the sudden, my door creaked open slowly, Bella standing there with a hair pin held up victoriously in one delicate little hand, half smiling smugly at me. _Shit, she looks good like that. _

"Can I help you, Bella?"

She muttered something inaudible under her breath and rolled her eyes at me. "I just came for my lotion Edward. I just took a shower, and I'd like to be properly moisturized if you don't mind."

_Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shitfuckfuckshit. Oh god. She can't know. She can't fucking know. What the fuck am I gonna do-_

She reached down to pluck the lotion from where it sat on my couch, and tossed it up lightly before snatching it back out of the air. She looked at it confusedly for a second, before shooting another quick glance at me. _Oh shit. OH SHIT._

As she walked toward the door, she called casually over her shoulder, "Get up, Edward. We're making breakfast."

_Oh thank God. She doesn't know. She can't know. There's no way she can know. _

Just as I breathed a much needed sigh of relief, she paused at the door, glanced down at the lotion, and then looked back up me with a quirked eyebrow and a grin. Then was gone.

_Oh fuck. She knows. She knows and now I'm more fucked than ever and I don't even know how to ride the fucking bus and does Forks even have a bus and I haven't pedaled a fucking bike in years. I am Edward My-Cock's-Too-Fucking-Big-For-a-Banana-Seat Cullen, I can't ride a fucking bike!_

I decided then and there that fuck being grateful, I _hated _my life.

* * *

The next few minutes while I washed up and then glowered angrily at my razor and refused to shave were passed in a self deluding full blown fucking panic. I was like a paranoid schizophrenic off their fucking meds. _Oh no, she knows. She's gonna tell Emmett and he'll find a way to morph the Volvo into the douchemobile. There's no fucking way she can know. She's not Nancy Fucking Drew. _

Back and forth, over and over, until I was half fucking convinced I was batshit crazy. I finally calmed myself into believing there was no way that Bella could be in on my self-lovin', and even though I had a semi walking down the stairs, I couldn't help but grin and for once _not _be broody pissed off Edward, because jerking off just saved my fucking life. And by life, I mean car, and really, it's the same shit.

As I walked toward the kitchen, I spared a glance into the living room. Jasper was snoring softly, upside down in one of the arm chairs. His shirt was up, tangled around his neck, a bandana around his face Western bad-guy style, while one leg was stick-straight up into the air, and he was wearing rainbow striped toe socks. At least on the visible foot. Ah, Jasper.

Emmett was in the other armchair, sitting sideways, legs dangling lazily over the arm, that god damn hat back on his hat and sideways again. He looked up from the TV, where the Spice Channel and ESPN were both playing in picture-in-picture. He raised what appeared to be a screwdriver to me in greeting. "Morning, dickhead."

I nodded as I kept walking, "Use a coaster, cocksucker."

As I entered the kitchen, Alice was in front of the stove, complete with pink chef's hat, frilly apron, and fucking Bedazzled pink spatula, flipping pancakes like… I don't know, somebody that flips lots of fucking pancakes.

Rosalie was next to her, trying her fucking damnedest to fry bacon from arm's length, giving it dirty fucking looks like just being too close to it would make her fat and talking shit to it. Not kidding. Talking shit to the bacon. That's Rosalie. Practical.

And then, there was Bella. Standing off to the side, dicing fruit from a bowl expertly, looking soft and delicious and a little sleepy and more than ready for monkey fuckin' right on top of that counter. Or that last part could just be me. What the fuck ever.

Alice turned to say something to Bella when she saw me standing there and immediately transformed into Energizer Make My Brain Hurt Bunny.

"Oh my gosh Edward, I didn't even see you standing there! You just snuck up on us! Anyway, how did you sleep? I hope it was good, because we all slept pretty good, except for maybe Jasper, because he's upside down and all but for some reason he seems more rested after he sleeps all crazy, but that's Jasper for you. Hey, could you help Bella with the fruit since Rose and I are almost done over here? I want to get everything on the table while the pancakes and bacon are still hot, because you know, when they get cold, pancakes get all hard and not soft and good anymore and the crispy bacon gets all soggy and mushy and it's just a big old mess, so hurry up and help Bella with the fruit or you can tell Emmett why he has to go hungry. Kay?"

And without taking a single fucking breath, she was back to twirling her sparkly pink spatula around, ignoring me again. Fuck, I don't know how Jasper manages to comprehend half that shit. He needs subtitles most of the time anyway. Apparently being drunk impairs your hearing.

Newly confident in the fact that Bella had no idea I had so recently wanked off to her in my mind with the smell of her on my hands and cock, I sauntered over to her smirking, for once not even hating myself or my dick, because I had that shit _under control._

She grinned as she looked up at me and said, "Sleep well, Edward?"

I smirked right the fuck back and responded, "Of course, Bella. And yourself?"

She just smiled and went back to dicing her fruit. Until she looked up, staring me directly in the eyes, and brought a peach straight to her mouth. Never breaking eye contact, and putting her lips on it slowly, she took a full, juicy bite. She licked her lips as she looked at me knowingly, and handed me a banana. As I reached out, stunned, to take it, she ran her hand over it again, stroking it slowly. One corner of her mouth turned up sardonically as she said quietly, "Think you can _handle _that, Edward?"

_Oh fucking shit._

* * *

After breakfast was finished and I was fairly certain that I had thus far avoided myocardial infarction, everyone sort of milled into the living room. Emmett got his bear claws on Rosalie immediately and yanked her down into his lap, effectively occupying one half of the big couch. Jasper had apparently managed to put his arms back through the sleeves of his shirt and it was now covering up the ponies and rainbows that were Magic Markered all over his torso, but he was still wearing the fucking bandana and toe socks. When questioned with the obvious "why", he just managed to look like a sheepish bandit and drawled slowly, "'Cuz I was feelin' a bit fuckin' drafty."

Emmett hollered out ridiculously loud from behind Rosalie's tongue, "Movie, Cullen! Make it happen!" and then went back to sucking Rosalie's face clean the fuck off.

Alice squealed and applauded and produced a lighter from somewhere and started lighting fucking candles all over the place, because apparently with the shades drawn, we needed "lighting" to set the "ambiance". I swear she's like a walking fucking Martha Stewart incarnate. Jasper was busy pinching her ass and flung a random DVD at me to start while he . . . got started on Alice. Oh well, at least they were on the big couch with Rose and Emmett. Although I wondered if they would create alternating rhythms that would flip the couch over.

I was all for this idea, never being one to pass up the opportunity to watch Jasper fall off of something, until I realized where that left me. On the loveseat. With Bella. All by our lonesomes. Fuck.

As we sat there next to one another, me sidling over toward the end as far away from Bella as possible, I was pretty sure I wasn't out of the heart palpitation danger zone just yet. I was once again reasonably sure that she knew that just a short time ago, I had her in my head and my cock in my hand. I just knew she was going to say some shit, start pulling something – and I was guessing it wouldn't be my cock, so I wasn't down for that shit - and that makes for some serious fucking awkward silences. Luckily, the movie was starting and I didn't have to pretend to make conversation. What with my mouth not being fucking functional and all.

As the minutes flew by, and Bella still hadn't outed me to the rest of the bastards sitting on my couches, I started to calm the fuck down. A little. Well, as much as could be expected sitting next to Bella. In the dark.

I started to actually focus on the movie, which could have been a really bad idea, because the thing was complete shit. It was zombies, which I'm fucking game for any time, but the effects were shit, the plot was non-existent, and I was bored out of my fucking brain.

I was just weighing my options about how to shake things up a bit and not become a pedestrian when I heard Bella giggle, almost silently, beside me.

Unable to help myself, I whispered, "What?"

She just shook her head minutely and looked amused. I dig that fucking coy shit. Completely involuntarily, I grinned halfway and commanded her to fucking tell me.

She eyed me surreptitiously as she whispered back, "It's just this whole movie. Shitty zombies. The lone destroyer with the big honkin' guns and the warpaint. And it sucks. I mean, how fucking hard is it to _act_ like a zombie? They're _zombies_ for chrissakes."

Oh shit. A girl that's not pulling that "oh I'm so scared, let me hide my face in your chest" shit at first opportunity? _Fuck, I hate my life. _

We shared a few more snickers at the cheesy one-liners and unrealistic blood, and suddenly, everything else around just got kind of boring. Until the whisper came.

"So, Cullen." _Oh shit. Fuck me, here it comes._

"Where are your parents?" _FUCK, I knew she was gonna fucking tel- wait. What? That was unexpected. _

So for some fucking reason, I answered her. Honestly. "The good doctor is never home. He works late, every night. And by works late, I mean is fellated by various young nurses in staff-only quarters of the hospital. It's really very droll."

She didn't answer right away, just looked up at me with her expression unreadable, biting her bottom lip. I wanted to fucking bite it. I had to look away.

"So what about your mom?"

Without looking back at her, I explained, "Esme? Chances are she's with Raul. Or Esteban. Or whoever the fuck the pool boy is this month, in our beach house in Cabo."

I was debating expanding on that, when from across the room, Rosalie loudly moaned, "Oh, _God, _Emmett!"

Bella and I immediately froze, both our eyes widening in disgust before her the corners of her mouth started twitching up and I felt my own mirroring her expression. We giggled as quietly as possible, both taking for granted the stupid bitch in the movie screaming her head off. It made for good audio-cover.

After her light chuckles died down, she turned back to me, renewed interest flashing in her big doe eyes. "So what's the story with these bitches? How do you know all of them?" she asked, stifling a giggle as Jasper loosed a low growl. Horny fucker.

I chuckled, recalling the story in my head. "Well, Jasper and I were friends first. He moved here in the first grade from Texas. He was fucking ridiculous even then. He showed up with Optimus Prime underwear on outside his pants and was wearing one cowboy boot and one Thundercats sneaker, carrying a fucking briefcase. On his first day at school, we mysteriously ended up being allowed to play Heads-Up Seven-Up all day. While we were walking to the buses, I saw the box of chalk in his back pocket. He was already doing that fucking Jasper grin, when he showed me all of our worksheets, stolen of course, in that stupid fucking briefcase. We've been best friends ever since."

She giggled and leaned forward, just a bit, to hear more intently. "And Rose?"

"Story's not nearly as interesting. In the 7th grade, we heard somewhere that Rosalie had given someone head. We figured we'd better hop on that fucking bandwagon before someone else did, so we buttered her up. Nothing ever came of it, except now I'm permanently associated with the crankiest bitch ever, but there you have it."

Again, she inched just a little a bit closer, unconsciously, as she pressed me for more. "And how about Alice?"

"Ah, Alice. Jasper and I were at the mall one day, and he went off to look for a He-Man lunch box while I bought jeans. I didn't see him again for four fucking hours. When he came back, it was beside Alice, loaded down with bags and boxes and shit looking like a smitten puppy. Alice came up and introduced herself as Jasper's soulmate, while he just stood back there and grinned at me. And that was that," I chuckled softly.

She tried valiantly to stifle her effort as she asked how in the world our group had ever acquired Emmett.

I grinned crookedly at her as I thought of the best way to explain it. "Well," I started, "Rosalie punched him."

She snorted and said, "She did _what?"_

"We were ice skating. And sidenote, if you ever want epic hilarity, get Jasper drunk and put him on fucking ice. Anyway, so we're ice skating, and Rosalie's doing her triple axle loop spinny jumpy shit, and Emmett beans her with a puck from across the rink, because he's over there practicing with some other meathead friend of his. Rose went right over to him, called him a blind-as-a-bat cocksucker and decked him in the face. It was pretty much love right then and there."

She doubled over in silent laughter, almost touching me now, trying painfully to keep breathing through the fits of giggles.

I couldn't help but laugh with her. She was too fucking ridiculous, waving her hands around in front of her face and shit.

I smiled and told her even though Emmett was the newest, it felt like I'd known the douchebag for years. And because I'm such an observant fucking genius, I saw a little bit of the sparkle in her eyes fade and die, and she almost looked . . . wistful? So being the valorous gentleman that I am, I realized that she must miss her own friends. So I asked her about them.

The humorous, unguarded sparkle of a moment before was gone, and was replaced by that fiery edge that I both lusted for and wanted to kill. "Phoenix was fucking hot and everyone there is a bitch."

And perhaps if I weren't the smartest fucking asshole ever, I'd have believed her, but I knew she was fucking lying. Just as I was about to pry, the screen went blue. The movie had ended, credits and all. With a last glance at Bella, I hopped up and flicked on the lights, while covering my eyes.

"Jasper, Emmett, all of your clothes better be the fuck on and intact, because if I catch another fucking eyeful of something I don't want to see, I'm cutting it off. Rose, Alice, this does not apply to you, feel free to stay in various states of undress."

There were mutters of protest and one very interestingly timed squeal, but when I uncovered my eyes, everyone was back to normal. Mostly. Bella still had that look on her face. When I caught her eyes though, she smiled half-heartedly at me and stood, straightening her sweater.

"Well guys, thanks for the weekend, but I have to get home. Charlie's probably half dead from starvation and can't work the fucking toaster. I'll see you at school."

I tried to catch her attention, but she just hefted her bag up from where it rested in the foyer and marched out the door. _Shit. _

As the afternoon died down, and everyone disappeared to do their own thing, I was left in my room by myself, with nothing but my cock and my thoughts to keep me company.

I replayed the afternoon in my head, thinking about Bella's eyes and how they sparkled when she really, truly, laughed. And the way she snorted a little bit when she tried to breathe if she were laughing really hard.

But mostly I thought about her smile. And her lips. And the way they were going to look wrapped around my cock. Because I am Edward Always-Gets-What-the-Fuck-He-Wants Cullen.

* * *

**Teehee! You thought Doucheward bitched out on you that fast? Come now! Also, a million dollars to whoever can spot the South Park reference. Tell mama what she wants to hear, bebbehs! Tell her, and she might just let you know what Bitchella has to say about all of this. ;D**


	8. Pocket Aces

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**Disclaimer: Neither KatieBelle nor I own anything Twilight. Except the dirty raunchy fantasies. **

**Hello, peaches! I am stoked as fuck about the hilarious reviews and PMs I got about Edward's long ass hyphenated middle names. That shit made my Christmas. I'm glad you guys dug that shit, cuz I was kinna worried.  
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**So thank you guys for waiting so patiently (HA!) for this one. For the record - do you know how hard it is to find an apartment that allows my dog? Well I do, and let me say, it fucking BLOWS. That search is taking up most of my time. **

**Anyway, if you got a teaser for this chapter ahead of time, it means you're fuckawesome and we sent you one cuz you left us a good review - an endeavor that we have decided to undertake from now on since all you guys are so god damned epic. Our favorite reviews will get some lovin' - teaser style. So get on that shit and do work, son!**

**One last item - the South Park episode from last chapter! Katiebb is the one who got it! The reference was "Back Door Sluts 9" - the porno from the Lord of the Rings episode. FUCKING HILARITY. **

*****Hidden Pop Culture Reference in This Chapter: Scrubs! I love the shit out of Scrubs, and you should too. A GAJILLION DOLLARS AND SOME SPARKLY PEEN TO WHOEVER CATCHES IT FIRST!*****

**That being said: Enjoy KatieBelle's BPOV, and all the paragraphs she let me write involving my childhood nostalgia. I love that sexy bitch for letting me write the Doucheward dialogue in her chapters. And for not making fun of me for my ridiculous knowledge of old cartoons, and being picky as fuck about 'em. AWAY WE GO!**

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As soon as my decrepit truck rattled into Charlie's driveway, I cut the engine and leaned back in my seat, glaring scornfully at the raindrops that were spattering across the windshield. With a huff, I pulled down the visor and flipped open the overhead mirror. I sat there for a few seconds, making sure to study my face carefully.

_Nope_.

I did not, in fact, have the word DUMBASS scrawled across my forehead in big, bulky, capital fucking letters.

So who the fuck did Cullen think he was kidding?

The entire weekend had been a complete joke - and I sure as hell wasn't laughing.

I sighed as I snapped the visor back into place, then turned my attention to the muddy cruiser that was already parked in the driveway. Charlie was home. Great.

Deciding that I could no longer delay the inevitable, I grabbed the handle and shoved the rusted door open, probably bruising my shoulder in the process. I walked swiftly through the pouring rain, pausing only to grab the house key from the molding, wooden eave. I unlocked the door hurriedly, then thrust it open and stepped into the house. Charlie was, thankfully, nowhere to be seen, so I silently slipped my shoes off and padded towards the kitchen, making sure to avoid the creaking floorboards in an effort to avoid alerting the sheriff of my presence.

Once inside the kitchen, I sunk into one of the old, mismatched dining chairs and set my purse in front of me. I opened the bag and rummaged through it's contents, tapping my foot anxiously until my fingers brushed against the cold plastic of my silver cell phone flask.

_Thanks, Jas, you perpetually boozing bastard_, I thought with amusement, then unscrewed the antenna and took a small sip of my pilfered liquor.

As the warmth of the Jack burned my tongue, I decided it was time to get down to business. I had some serious shit to think through.

The weekend at Cullen's, though quite fucking irritating, had actually proven to be highy informative. Because, while Cullen had continued to keep up his infuriating, ridiculously blase demeanor toward me, I now fucking _knew_ that that shit wasn't true.

Because _nothing_ could refute the evidence that had fallen straight into my hands earlier this very morning.

I remembered that, while I was by no means completely pacified, I had at least been in a hell of a better mood when I had woken up. Perhaps "sleeping on it" had managed to lift my spirits - you know, time heals all wounds and shit. Or maybe it was just the fact that Alice could give a mean pedicure, and there just wasn't anything quite like waking up with soft feet and shiny toenails to give a girl an edge. Whatever it was, I allowed myself to forget about Saturday night, when that cold motherfucker had dismissed me without a second glance, and had instead decided to turn my attentions towards cultivating a fresh start.

Of course, my good mood had faltered a bit when, after stepping out of the shower, I had realized that my lotion was missing. It fell even more when I remembered where I must have left it - right in the middle of Cullen's goddamn room. But fuck if I was going to let a little thing like that keep me from being properly moisturized.

So I had done what any girl would have done in my position - marched my ass straight to his room, ignored his weak protests, and unlocked his door using a pin from my hair.

The first thing I had noticed upon opening the door was, of course, Cullen himself. Much to my dismay, he had looked absolutely edible, just lying there with a delicious mop of bedhead, wearing what I was pretty sure was absolutely nothing beneath the soft, inviting, and probably ridiculously expensive sheets. Of course, the fact that he managed to look gorgeous by doing nothing but opening his eyes in the morning only managed to feed my ire, and I immediately tore my eyes away from him, opting to scan the floor instead. It didn't take long for me to spot my bottle of lotion, lying sideways on the floor, right between Cullen's black leather couch and his huge, gaudy bed.

I made as little conversation as possible as I stepped into his room - completely unprepared to deal with his arrogance before a decent breakfast - and strode purposefully towards the little bottle before plucking it swiftly from the floor.

And then, the heavens seemed to burst open, shining a fucking ray of light into the palm of my hand, directly on top of the tiny, peach-scented, and completely drained bottle of my favorite brand of lotion.

Just to be sure, I gave it a quick toss.

_Yep_.

Completely. Fucking. Drained.

I did the math in a second. Because really, it wasn't that fucking hard.

Cullen had used my lotion. And I could think of only _one_ reason for a 17 year old, hormone-riddled boy to have paid any mind at all to a tiny bottle of smooth, silky, girly-flavored, and highly lubricating hand cream.

A little session of self-satisfaction, Bella-scented style.

I snorted out loud at the memory of Edward's face as I had picked up the unassuming bottle. Oh sure, the motherfucker had continued to exude his usual cool air of arrogance, but for the first time, I had detected just a tiny fleck of panic - probably from the way he had been eyeing the bottle in my hands like it was about to fucking explode. It was almost imperceptible, the way his green eyes had flashed while they widened just infinitesimally, and I knew that no one else would have even noticed. But after a solid week of watching him carefully - gauging his reactions as I continually chipped away at his stony front - I _knew_ what I had seen.

Finally, I had broken through his infuriating facade - and all it had taken was a tiny vile of peach-scented cream.

Half of me had wanted to throw that shit right in his face, call him out on it and demand an explanation, while the other half had wanted nothing more than to tear that fucking sheet right off of him and show him what his fantasies had been missing. But, with a cool expression locked on my face, I fought down both instincts, opting for a much more devious course of action. Without revealing anything, I turned and walked towards Cullen's door, moving just as quickly as I had came, casually reminding him that breakfast was about to be served. And then, just before I left, when I was sure he had been effectively lulled into a false sense of security, I stopped in his doorway, glanced meaningfully down at the empty bottle in my hand, gave him one quick, knowing smirk, then made my graceful exit.

I snickered again before taking another pull from the flask. I had made just one more coy remark at breakfast, but had otherwise managed to leave the matter completely alone. Because, while I was now fucking _positive_ that Cullen wanted my fine ass, I was also equally sure that, for whatever reason, he wouldn't - or _couldn_'t - act on it.

_Couldn't_.

The word reverberated through my head as I capped my flask and grabbed my purse from the table. It was no secret that Cullen had already hit almost every piece of ass in Forks - obviously, the motherfucker wasn't shy. So why the hell was he holding out on me?

Whatever it was - the gang was definitely in on it. That much I was sure of.

It was _how_ they fit in that was the question. And how the four of them could possibly have anything to do with Cullen's sex life - or lack thereof.

It was time for me to put my fucking thinking cap on.

I let my mind wander over various scenarios as I stood up quietly and headed out of the kitchen. But I was so lost in my speculations as I headed up the stairs that I completely forgot to avoid the fourth step from the top, and it groaned loudly beneath my weight.

"Bells? That you?" was the delayed reaction to the ungodly creak.

_Fuck_.

"Yes, Daddy. It's just me!" I called towards his bedroom in my best angelic-daughter voice, while inwardly rolling my eyes. And just what, I wondered, would the chief of Forks have done if it _wasn_'t me? Cracked the cold-blooded killer over the head with his beer bottle?

"Oh," he seemed to process this for a moment. "Oh! Did you have a good time with your friends?"

I glanced towards the hallway clock.

_Slurring by 3 o'clock? Nice, Daddy_.

"Yeah, Dad, it was great! We all went shopping - Rose, Alice and I - and then we gave each other pedicures. Alice had a really great shade of red, made by mabelline, I think. It's sort of a candy apple color, and she -"

"That's great, sweetheart," was my immediate dismissal.

I grinned wryly and headed towards my room, exceedingly grateful that no other bullshitting had been required tonight. Nothing like a little girl talk to scare off the sheriff.

But as I reached the door to my room, I shot a furtive glance at the half-assed paint job that still adorned the hallway wall and sighed.

My father never really did get over Renee.

I shook my head ruefully as I entered my bedroom. The entire, rotting house that I now unfortunately called home was like a shrine to the months that Renee had lived in it. Not a single thing had moved since she had touched it - the nasty, yellowing rocking chair in the corner of my room was definitive proof of that. But really, what had he been expecting? My mother had been a wild child - yet another thing that still hadn't changed. Why Charlie had ever married a bitch like her was beyond me. But still, I couldn't help but feel bad for the poor bastard. He had fallen for her, hook, line, and sinker, and had never recovered. But, truth be told, he had never really tried. Nope, once the divorce papers had been signed, the bottle became his new lady - and they had been fucking each other's brains out ever since.

I entered my room and flung my purse and coat over the back of my desk chair before flopping across my bed. At least Charlie had found a way to deal with the fucked up hand life had dealt him. Sure, he was a drunk - but my fucking mother was an all-out floozy. Throughout my entire life, I had been repeatedly embarrassed by her ridiculous antics. Showing up drunk to school functions, hitting on my teachers - my entire life had been a three-ring circus that had revolved around Renee. But, I had always managed to put up with her - shrugged off her stumbling, set her alarm clock at night, and turned a blind eye to the numerous men that had tried unfuckingsuccessfully to sneak out of the house each morning, while I was already up and getting ready for school. And she had always seemed to appreciate my efforts - in her own fucked up way.

Well, at least until now. Now that she'd found her sleazy baseball star, and had sent me without a second thought to shithole Forks so that she could tour the entire fucking country with her newest squeeze.

I shook my head harshly, banishing those thoughts from my mind before hanging my jacket and flopping dejectedly onto my bed. Pouting was unlike me, and I wasn't about to start now. I didn't have time for that shit right now, anyway. I had much more pressing matters to attend to. Like why the hell Cullen kept his dick locked up tighter than a fucking bank vault.

There were only 3 things in the entire fucked-up situation that I was certain of. The first was the Cullen wanted my fine ass - the guy had masturbated with my lotion for chissakes. The second was that, for whatever reason, he couldn't just take me - a fact that pissed me off to no fucking end. And the third was that, to my utter disbelief, the entire gang was in on it - though I had no fucking clue why. And before I went any farther with this shit, Cullen could bet his ass that I would get to the bottom of it.

_So_, I wondered, _where should I go from here_? Obviously, I couldn't just ask him about it.

_Hey, Cullen. I noticed that, for whatever reason, you simply refuse to fuck me. Mind telling me why exactly that is?_

Yeah. Sure.

But Cullen was slipping - that much was obvious by the fact that he had left the evidence of his lust for me sitting right in the middle of his fucking floor. So who knew what a few more gentle pushes would bring me?

I tapped my fingers against my bedspread as I considered my next move carefully.

I had to get that motherfucker alone - but how?

After a few more minutes, I had my answer.

Grinning evilly, I hopped from my bed, threw my coat on and headed back down the stairs, this time carefully avoiding the squeaking step. Once in the living room, I detoured into the kitchen, grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer, then hauled ass back outside.

The hood of my truck proved to be rather difficult to open - it probably took me a full two minutes to get that bitch up. But once it was propped open, I grabbed the first wire I found, and sliced clean through it. Still smirking, I slammed the lid back down, got in the cab and attempted to start it.

The sickly, spluttering sound it made amused me to no end.

Fully satisfied, I walked back into the house, ditched the scissors in the sink, and marched straight back to my room. Once the door was shut behind me, I stood in front of my closet, debating on what to wear the next day. I had already decided to cut the advances on Cullen - but that didn't mean I couldn't fuck with him. After all, what was a little light-hearted torture between friends?

It only took half a second for me to select a tight, pale pink shirt with just a tiny bit of lace detail along the sides. It took even less time for me to decide what to wear under it - which was nothing at all.

Because one glance at my spectacular tits as they jiggled around, completely unrestricted, was sure to do Cullen in. And there was nothing like a scathing case of blue balls to level the playing field a little.

_Yep, Bella Fucking Swan, bitch. But you can call me Dr. Fucking Evil._

Still smirking, I laid the clothes out for the next morning and turned in early - more than willing to put an end to this frustrating weekend and begin the new week. Because Bella Swan was officially back in fucking business.

But as I turned the light off and laid down, I couldn't seem to stop thinking about Cullen. I remembered the way we had laughed together, mutually picking apart that lameass zombie movie. I remembered the way he chuckled softly, and how the silky tenor of his voice seemed to caress my every thought. I remembered the way the candles that Alice had lit had illuminated his face, accentuating his strong cheekbones and the perfect cut of his jaw. I remembered all too well the way his sweet, earthy smell had invaded my senses, while the warmth of his body seemed to sink straight into my skin.

But I especially remembered the way his green eyes had flashed with humor when he laughed, and the way his brow seemed to soften slightly when he really, truly smiled.

I slept restlessly that night, waking often. Because every time I shut my eyes, sleep evaded me, replacing the blackness with sparkling images of deep, green eyes.

***

I counted five rings before I was greeted with a sound that would normally be called _gravelly_ in anyone else's voice. In this velvelty one, however, it was oddly appealing. "It's seven AM, asshole. Make it good."

"Good morning to you too, Cullen," I replied airily, "My truck's broke. I need a ride"

There was silence on the other end for a moment before I heard him chuckle softly.

"You mean that fine vehicle of yours is experiencing technical difficulties? I don't fucking believe it."

"Funny," I flatlined, then waited patiently.

_Three. . .two. . .one. . ._

"Just be ready in 20. You owe me, Swan."

I smirked to myself as I hung up the phone, then turned my attentions toward the mirror. Of course, I looked hot as hell - but I had gone the carefully understated route today. My hair fell in shiny, loose waves around my face, giving it a subtle sex appeal. My makeup was light and unnoticeable - with just a dash of smokey eyeliner and a light coat of mascara, my eyes seemed to pop, playing up their dark color while widening them slightly. I applied an extra layer of strawberry lip gloss to my full, pouty lips, and smiled wickedly.

_Perfect_.

Of course the best part was below my face. I had elected for a simple pair of low-riding jeans that revealed just a tiny sliver of my stomach. But above that, my fantastic rack strained, braless, beneath my t-shirt. The pink shirt I wore was light-weight, easily revealing every curve. Just to make sure, I bounced lightly on the balls of my feet. The girls bounced right back, and I snickered softly before strapping on a pair of sex heels and pulling on my coat, leaving the front open. With one more satisfied glance at the mirror, I sashayed out of my room and headed for the stairs.

Charlie had left early that morning, as expected, so I wandered freely through the living room as I kept close watch on the front window. I wasn't about to make Cullen wait - if this shit worked the way I thought it would, then I would be wanting these rides much more often. Not only that, but I planned to meet him outside. Just the sight of this rickety house was embarrassing enough - he sure as hell didn't need to be subjected to my first grade photos that still hung on the living room walls. Or the fucking finger paintings beside them.

So I continued to wait, posted up on the couch as I filed my nails, watching the window surreptitiously.

Thirty-fucking-three minutes later, a silver Volvo came to a screeching halt beside my curb.

I should have known I wouldn't have to worry about the fucking door.

With a huff, I rose from the couch, gave my hair a toss, and headed outside. Once I reached the car, I gripped the handle fiercely and threw open the door.

"You're late, bitch," I stated.

"You're gonna have serious fucking trouble walking to school in those shoes, Swan. Beggars can't be choosers. Or whiny bitches."

I grinned in spite of myself. He had already noticed the shoes.

Leaning forward slightly, I climbed in the passenger seat, watching him from beneath my lashes. Satisfaction washed over me as I watched his eyes momentarily lock on my tits before he looked swiftly away.

No sooner had I closed the door than we were off, heading maniacally towards the freeway. Jesus Christ, who the fuck did Cullen think he was? He enunciated entirely too fucking well to be a Nascar driver.

"So what took you so long, anyway?" I asked him, mainly to distract myself from the trees that were whizzing by at break-neck speeds. "Was it those damn shoe laces again? Or was it perfecting the sex hair?" I grinned slyly as I reached out to ruffle his annoyingly gorgeous hair.

He leaned sharply away without looking at me.

"Rule number one of the Batmobile, Swan. Hands off the goods," he replied while smirking sideways at me.

_Indeed_. There seemed to be a lot of those kind of rules where this asshole was concerned.

The remaining five minutes were spent in silence that was surprisingly comfortable. Minus the fact that I was pissing my pants where his driving was concerned.

It wasn't until he blew right past Forks High's exit that I spoke.

"Uh, I may not be a goddamn highway engineer or anything, but I'm pretty sure you just missed the only fucking entrance to school."

"We're not going to school," he smirked as he continued to push the engine, flying past numerous other exits along the way. "We're late anyway, and I get cranky on an empty stomach."

"You're cranky on a full stomach." I quipped as I watched three more exits shoot by in a blur.

He inclined his head a bit and said, "No, I'm broody."

I couldn't help but laugh at him. "Really, Cullen? _Broody_? You already have the James-Dean-rebel thing down. You don't really have to add brooding to your arsenal of panty-disarming weaponry."

"Shows what the fuck you know, Swan. Bitches love the tortured soul routine. And anyway, the brooding thing is more of a - fuck. We're not talking about this. Pancakes or waffles?"

"We'll see when we get there," I replied, still grinning.

At that moment, the car veered sharply right, and I stared in disbelief as we pulled into an IHOP on the outskirts of Port Angeles.

He turned to smirk at me before gesturing towards the restaurant. "Pancakes or waffles?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Pancakes."

As we walked into the restaurant side by side, I immediately noticed that all eyes were on us - both male and female alike. I giggled softly - I didn't blame them. We were quite a hot fucking couple, if I do say so myself. I stifled another laugh at the open mouths and wide eyes, causing Edward to glance questioningly at me. I shrugged at him, still grinning, and he smirked back before turning towards the hostess.

"Two," he told her simply.

"Absolutely!" she replied, way-too-fucking enthusiastically while she fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Will that be at a booth, or near a window?"

The _fuck_? Who actually _offers_ a window seat at IHOP?

"Uh, booth," Edward replied shortly, apparently thinking the same thing.

She led us to a table, making sure to shake her ass with every step. The way she was trying to flaunt her shit to Cullen right in front of me was pissing me the hell off. Who did this bitch think she was? I was just debating whether to spray her face with boiling coffee or carve out chunks of her flesh with a butter knife when she turned back to us.

"Here you go," she chirped in a nasally voice. "I'll be right back for your order." I didn't miss the wink she shot at Cullen before attempting to sashay back down the isle.

Not to mention the fact that hostesses do not take fucking orders.

I heard Edward snicker beside me, and I turned immediately.

"_What?_" I asked in annoyance.

"Do you normally threaten ghastly vengeance to hostesses everywhere?" he smirked.

My eyes snapped wide as I came dangerously close to squeaking, "I did _not_!"

He chuckled softly, "You most certainly did, albeit quietly. I knew you were feisty, Swan, but grievous bodily injury? What the fuck, pray tell, is your motivation for going all Michael Meyers on the IHOP bitch?"

"Principle, asshole," I replied sharply as I sat down in my seat. He sat across from me, still eyeing me with an amused expression.

"Look. _You_ know, and _I_ know, that _we_ are not a thing," I paused for dramatic effect here, grinning widely as I watched him steal a quick, longing glance at my glorious tits before continuing. "But _she_ doesn't know that. And I'll be damned if I'm gonna let her just hit on anyone she fucking pleases. I'm doing a service to womankind here, Cullen."

"I've seen you make broads cry just for wearing the wrong colored shoes. You are not about chick empowerment. Cut the shit. What's your deal, sugartits?"

I grinned slyly at him. "Nosy isn't your strong suit, asshole. But thanks. They are nice, aren't they?" I asked, glancing towards my chest.

Cullen smirked, but was spared a response by the sudden appearance of the skank in question, who proceeded to lean ridiculously low to set our coffee pot on the table.

"What can I get you?" she attempted to simper seductively, when she had tucked her ass back into place.

_Bitch, please_. She sounded like a fucking wheezing asthmatic running a marathon. I watched Cullen closely for his response.

"My friend here will have an order of your pancakes," he grinned wryly at me as she unwillingly turned.

I returned his grin and kept my eyes locked with his as I added, "With fresh peaches on top."

I watched with satisfaction as his grin faltered momentarily before reappearing just as quickly.

All too willingly, bitchface turned right back to Cullen.

"And for you?" she purred while sounding like a fat kid with a throat full of ho-ho's.

"I'm not very hungry this morning. Just give me four eggs, over easy, a side of hash browns, a short stack of pancakes, and an order of bacon. Thanks," he replied dismissively.

I stifled my snickers as the incredible whore's pen flew wildly across the pad. Cullen winked at me surreptitiously before turning back to her.

"Is that all?" she asked once she was done with her chicken scratch. "Isn't there _anything else_ I can _get_ for you?" she asked again as she continued to bat her eyelashes like she had a nervous fucking twitch.

Oh, _hell_ no. It was definitely time for me to put an end to this shit.

"Unless you were planning on cooking up your fucking ovaries and serving them on a goddamn silver platter, I think we're pretty fucking good," I cut in with a fiery glare. "Bye, now," was my added dismissal.

With a horrified expression on her face, she folded up her pad, tucked her fucking tail, and half-ran, half-scurried down the aisle, not stopping until she was completely out of sight.

With a satisfied smirk, I turned back to Cullen, only to see him shaking with silent laughter.

"For women everywhere, Cullen," I reminded him. "Now wipe that grin off your face and pass me the sugar."

Ignoring his snickering, I poured myself a cup of coffee. That bitch had put me in a bad mood - and it was only 9 o'clock, which was not a good fucking sign. With a resigned sigh, I reached into my purse and pulled out my trusty cell phone flask. I opened it as quickly as possible, then proceeded to dump half its contents into my morning coffee.

Yep. Jack and coffee. It was one of _those_ days.

"Why, Swan, I think our dear Jasper may be corrupting your innocence," Cullen said, eyeing my spiked coffee with amusement.

"Just ensuring the attitude, Cullen. If I'm going to be anywhere _near_ pleasant after that shit, I'm going to need a little help. You want some or what?"

He nodded, still smirking. After gracing Cullen's cup with the remaining contents of my flask, I grabbed my own and took a tentative sip. The coffee actually covered the taste of the Jack pretty fucking well, so I ventured a larger gulp, this time burning my tongue on the scalding drink.

_Son of a fucking bitch_.

I grimaced a little and reached up to wipe a hot, wayward droplet from the side of my mouth. With a shy smile, I looked up to see Cullen, whose eyes were flashing down at me with humor and something else I couldn't place.

"Well," he grinned wryly at me, "we know she swallows like a champ, but can she cook?"

I had to bite my lip in order to silence my giggles.

_If you had any idea_. . .I thought to myself.

"Anything and everything, dickweed," I replied with a sly smirk.

Edward quirked an eyebrow at me before a new waitress appeared with our plates. The new bitch had obviously been warned, and I watched with delight as she set our plates down and scampered off, all without a word.

"You do have a way about you, Swan. I'll give you that," he allowed as he eyed the waitress who was probably ducking and covering in the kitchen.

"You too, Cullen," I nodded back, then turned my attention towards my plate.

_Fucking perfect_.

Just as I had ordered, an entire scoop of fresh peach slices were sitting pretty on top of my pancakes. I fought back a wicked grin as I speared one on my fork, then lifted it to my mouth. Cullen met my eyes as I looked up at him, and I didn't break the contact as I guided one softly into my mouth, moaning almost inaudibly as it settled on my tongue. I had to stop myself from laughing at the momentarily dazed look on his face as I chewed.

"Want a bite?" I asked slyly as I speared another slice and held my fork out to him.

"Nope," he replied simply before shoving an entire bacon strip into his mouth.

"Jesus Christ, Cullen!" I laughed as I watched him proceed to snarf down his breakfast. "You're not a seal, douchebag, you're supposed to chew first."

"Chewing's overrated sometimes," he replied between bites. "Besides, I'm making up for lost time. You threw off my whole schedule, asshole."

I snickered before starting in on my pancakes. How was it that, for all the shit this guy put me through, I continued to enjoy his company? I considered this as I ate my breakfast. It sure as hell wasn't his manners - the way he was shoving his face would put Jenna Jameson to shame. But as I watched him, I couldn't help but wonder how he still managed to look graceful while mowing down an entire farm. And he _was_ pretty fun to hang with, I supposed, when he wasn't bogarting the goods like there was a fucking embargo afoot.

A few minutes later, after Edward had proceeded to lick his fucking plate clean, he raised his eyes back to mine. I grinned as I took the last bite of my pancakes, then set my fork onto my plate.

"Ready, Swan?" he asked me as he leaned back in his seat.

"Nearly," I replied, then reached for my cup. I drained the rest of my coffee concoction quickly, then set the cup on the table, smiling as I felt the liquor take its effect.

Edward chuckled then lifted his cup to do the same. Once his was empty as well, he slapped some bills down and rose from the table.

"Very gentlemanly of you, Cullen," I acknowledged. "And here I thought you were such a caveman."

"Shove it, Swan. Let's get out of here before you run into our little friend again. While I would so enjoy the spectacle, I didn't bring enough cash to bail you out of jail, Amy Fisher."

"I prefer Michael Meyers, but I see your point," I smirked as I stood.

We headed out of the restaurant, turning heads yet again as we made our graceful exit. We didn't speak again before we were back in his car, peeling out of the parking lot with a speed that sent me flying back in my seat.

"Jesus, Cullen! Where's the fucking _fire_?" I sneered.

"Are you scared, Swan?" he grinned widely while turning to quirk an eyebrow at me. "And here I thought you were such a badass."

I didn't dignify that with a response, and instead reached for his stereo, hoping a little music would distract me from the mind-boggling speed. But the moment I hit the button, I was surprised to hear the relaxing voice of Sinatra fill the car, and I turned back to him.

"Huh. Didn't peg you for a Sinatra kind of guy there, Cullen," I prodded him.

"That's because you don't know shit about me," he flatlined. "Now tell me something - were you in a hurry to get to 3rd period? We're already 10 minutes late."

"I don't do late. And if school is the reason that you're driving like a bat out of hell, then you can slow your roll right now. I don't give a shit when we get there."

"Good," he replied simply, then took a sharp left. I watched with annoyance, glaring out the window as we turned down what appeared to be a deserted road. The path looked as though it hadn't been traveled in years - nasty, green moss had woven itself throughout the ancient pavement, while overgrown tree branches hung too low above us, threatening to block the path completely at any moment.

"Where are you taking me, asshole?" I snapped as I stared out at the dreary wilderness.

But he didn't answer as he continued to speed through the undergrowth.

A few more twists and turns later, we came to a sudden, jarring halt - right in front of what appeared to be an old, wasted warehouse.

The few windows that patched the walls were either boarded up or broken right through, and the nasty, grey paint was chipped and peeling. The entire structure was half corroded with rust and looked like it was straight out of a Friday the Thirteenth movie, sitting quietly in the damp fog.

I snorted as Cullen cut the engine.

"What the fuck is this?" I asked, gesturing towards the deserted shithole.

"Our next stop," he shrugged, as he proceeded to climb out of the car.

I eyed the building scornfully for one more moment, then huffed with annoyance. What the hell could his motivation _possibly_ be for bringing me here?

Unless, of course, he was looking for absolute privacy. . .

I opened the door and climbed out carefully, completely unprepared to lose a fucking heel in the uneven pathway. Once I had found a secure footing, I closed the door and looked towards Edward. He was waiting for me, leaning against the hood of his car, that stupid, sexy smirk already in place.

"You're killing my buzz, Cullen," I snapped as I approached him.

"Patience is a virtue, Swan. Didn't anyone ever teach you that shit?," he replied coolly as he set off towards the decrepit warehouse.

"I don't do virtue either, dickhead," I grinned, giving him a coy sideways glance.

He chuckled softly as we began trudging towards the looming building. We walked side by side, overstepping the corroded pavement and sprawling weeds, once again falling into that inexplicably comfortable silence. He led me around the side of the building swiftly, although I noticed him watching me carefully from the corner of his eye. I wondered whether he was actually concerned for my welfare as he led me through the overgrown shrubbery, or if he was simply waiting for me to fall on flat my ass. I had just called it a toss up when we reached an old, rusted door in the back of the building.

"Let me guess," I smirked as he grabbed the rotted handle. "Welcome to the bat lair?"

"It's the Bat_Cave_, Swan. Get that shit straight," he grinned as he pushed down the handle. "And besides, no, it's not the BatCave. If it were, you'd never be here. You don't just go bringing girls to the fucking BatCave all willy-nilly. It's more of a. . .clubhouse, if you will"

The door protested loudly as Cullen pulled it open, and I peered in warily. It was completely dark inside, save for a few, small patches of floor that were barely illuminated by the greyish sunlight that shone weakly through the busted windows. The door shut behind us with another sickly groan, and I stubbornly remained just inside the doorway, trying to make out anything in the murky darkness.

"You know, Cullen, if you're planning on leaving me in an ice bath without my liver, then you're fucked, because it won't go for shit on the black market," I smirked as I heard him shuffling forward. The only response I received was a ghostly chuckle, along with the echoing sound of his footsteps from across the room. A few moments later, the footsteps stopped, giving way to the swish of heavy fabric, brushing against the stone walls.

At that moment, the entire room was suddenly bathed in light. The change was so drastic that I was left stunned, blinking fiercely for a few moments before I could see a fucking thing. Once my goddamn retinas recovered, I found myself staring at three huge windows that ran from the floor all the way to the ceiling, filling almost the entire length of the left wall. The second thing I noticed was Cullen himself, leaning against the wall, lopsided grin firmly in place, still gripping the corner of a heavy sheet that had presumably been hung across the glass.

I opened my mouth to say something to him, but nothing came out as I became suddenly aware of the room itself. The concrete floor was surprisingly clean, as well as the grey walls that surrounded us. A long, black leather couch that was strikingly similar to the one in Cullen's room was pushed against the wall opposite of the windows, flanked by two huge, black, bean bag chairs. A rectangular, mahogany coffee table was placed in front of them, and I smiled widely as I saw a pair of Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots, perched on top of it. Behind the coffee table was a foosball table, and in the back, left-hand corner, sat a circular card table, adorned with a beer bottle pyramid and surrounded by three chairs. The only other furnishings in the room were an array of strategically placed lanterns and candles, a pile of dusty, Transformers action figures that were shoved against the back wall, a mini fridge in the corner to the right, and a suspicious looking cardboard box, half-hidden from sight beneath the card table.

"Damn, Cullen. How the fuck did you manage _this_?" I asked in amusement, letting my eyes roam once more over the surprisingly comfortable room.

"Very fucking carefully," he quipped with a wink.

"I bet the spread-eagle bitches of Forks eat this shit right up," I mused as I strolled around, taking in the understated charm of the place. It should have been creepy, but instead felt more like an overpriced industrial loft somewhere trendy.

All traces of playfulness vanished from his face as eyed me seriously, "Fuck that. No girls allowed."

I stopped in my tracks and stared at him for a moment, before hooking my thumb in my jeans. With a meaningful expression, I pulled the waistband a few inches from my stomach, then glanced purposefully downward. After a few seconds, I lifted my eyes back to his, arching my eyebrow with a questioning gaze.

"Well, until you of course. And I'm sure we'll have to hose the place down afterwards. You know, spray for girl cooties and such," he smirked as he pushed off the wall and strode lazily towards me.

"Well, if there are no chicks allowed, what do you guys _do_ here?" I asked with real interest as I began meandering through the room again.

"It's for intellectual purposes, Swan. Jas and I have done some of our best thinking here."

_Uh huh_.

I approached the card table slowly, careful not to disturb the artful arrangement of beer bottles that were mounted on top of it. Using just my foot, I lightly tapped the cardboard box that was tucked beneath it, then opened the top flap using the heel of my shoe. An astounding array of scantily clad women in the midst of various sexual acts - some of which I was pretty fucking sure were illegal in at least 48 states - smirked back up at me, and I had to choke down a fit of giggles before turning back to him.

"And by thinking, you mean getting shit-faced and looking at porn?"

"Like I said, Swan. Best thinking."

I rolled my eyes, then marched straight to the mini fridge in the corner. The top of it was peppered liberally with various bottles of hard liquor, including the Jack that I now knew to be Jasper's favorite. I wasn't even surprised to see a ridiculously expensive-looking tequila sitting next to the plain old, ever-present whiskey. Grinning in spite of myself, I yanked open the refrigerator door to reveal row after row of dark brown beer bottles. How the hell did he cram so many in there?

"You're a regular watering hole, Cullen," I laughed as I surveyed the scene.

Without turning around, I heard the smirk in his voice as he replied silkily, "A man does have his needs."

I quirked an eyebrow as I turned to see him closely examining a deck of cards in his left hand. "And these needs are met by the goofy-looking tequila bottle over here?"

He looked up at me for a moment, dead seriousness blazing in his eyes, although his mouth was still half-set in a crooked grin, "That's an El Tesoro anejo, Swan. Do not underestimate it."

"Wouldn't dream of it," I responded coyly. "I'll let your precious tequila be, Cullen. Besides, I believe whiskey is the preferred flavor of the day. And one must always stick to one's preferences, now mustn't they?"

A look I couldn't place flashed briefly in his eyes as he gestured at me with the cards, "Truer words, Swan. Now grab a drink and get ready to lose your ass."

I laughed silently as I grabbed a bottle and sashayed towards the couch. If that motherfucker expected me to get plastered from a fucking bottle of Jack, he had another thing coming. I could hold my own just fucking fine - _he_ was the one who'd have to watch his shit. Because really, nothing wipes the pants off a man faster than a few hard liquor shots and a little ego-stroking.

Still smirking lightly, I settled onto the leather couch and looked at him expectantly. Without a word, Edward produced two shot glasses from behind the beer bottle pyramid, then came to sit next to me. He wasn't as close as I would have liked, but at least he wasn't on the other side of the couch. I grinned slyly at him as he set the shot glasses and card deck down on the coffee table, then handed him the bottle. He opened it quickly, poured the two shots, then handed one to me. I accepted it with a grateful nod, and he grinned wryly at me before picking his up as well.

"What shall we toast to?" I asked him.

"_Toast_ to? It's Jack Daniel's, Swan, not fucking champagne."

"I always toast with my first shot!" I responded, indignant. "Quit being such a douchebag and toast with me!"

He rolled his eyes theatrically, but I could still see the corner of his lip twisting with amusement.

"Fine, then. To the joys of excessive tardiness," he raised his glass to mine.

I pulled it back quickly.

"To fucking truancy, Cullen. Because fuck if you think we're going to school on this fine day," I winked.

He laughed and lifted his glass, clinking it softly against my own before we both downed our first shots. While I embraced the sparse sensations of a first shot, I found myself frowning slightly. I needed more today. Without a second thought, I lifted my emptied shot glass again, gazing at Edward expectantly. With nothing but another quirked eyebrow, he filled both our glasses, and we clinked them once more before swallowing them simultaneously. As we drank, I saw him watching me over the rim of his own, and I had to suppress a smile.

Once both shots were flowing freely through my system, I looked around the room curiously, resting my attentions on the pile of toys that were stacked against the back wall.

"What the hell is up with the toys, Cullen?" I snickered, then leaned in to pluck one from the floor.

"Please, Swan. _Tell_ me you know what those are," he practically begged.

"Oh, wait. Transformers, am I right?" I ventured, quite proud of my Marvel knowledge.

I had a brief flash of the Transformers movie Nick had dragged me to back in Phoenix. Much to my regret, my visions were murky - interspersed with various memories of Nick's talented mouth and hands, both of which could do wonders in a dark theater. I never thought I'd live to see the day where I would wish I'd paid attention to the fucking thing.

"Who's this big ugly one?" I asked, in an attempt to distract his attention from my memory lapse.

"Uh. . .Swan?" he asked, his voice bordering on astonishment. "That is Optimus Prime, and I don't think he would appreciate you calling him the _big ugly one_."

I snorted a little at his miffed behavior. "You _can't_ be serious," I asked.

"Optimus. Fucking. Prime," he deadpanned.

"Big. Ugly. One," I returned, dangling the little toy from my fingers as I fought hard to mask my amusement.

"_Optimus_. _Fucking_. _Prime_. Show some goddamn respect, woman!" he demanded as I continued to stare at him in disbelief. I mean, _really_? Choking back my laughter at the seriousness in his face, I looked back at the figurine in my hands, poking and prodding until the mechanisms began to give way and turn into something else altogether.

Curiously, I asked, "So what is it? A fire truck?"

"Oh, _God_!" he exclaimed in real frustration, throwing up his hands exasperatedly. "Optimus Prime is _not_ a fucking firetruck. He's a goddamn semi! _Never_ a firetruck. Why would you even _say_ - just, put it down. Give me the Prime, Swan."

He reached forward petulantly and snatched the damn thing out of my hands and held it to his chest, glaring at me fiercely. "You just don't understand."

I huffed a little as I giggled inwardly, "Fine, Cullen. I won't touch the big ugly one again."

Without looking up at me from the damn semi he said harshly, "Fuck you, Swan."

In an effort to mask my face-splitting grin, I turned back to the pile of toys and plucked a new one from the bunch.

"Hey! I remember this one!" I exclaimed as I observed the yellow robot between my fingers. "This one's the Camaro, isn't it?"

Edward's head shot up in disbelief and he spoke somberly, "Jasper would have a fucking seizure if he heard you right now. You know what? Just step away from the Transformers before a fuzzy baby kitten somewhere drops the fuck dead."

A burst of laughter escaped me as I handed over the yellow toy. Who would have thought that the elusive Edward Cullen could go all apeshit over _Transformers_?

"Shut it, Swan," he muttered as he proceeded to pour us both another shot, which I gladly accepted. Once I had managed to down the shot between my spontaneous fits of giggles, I let my eyes roam the room once more. This time, they landed on the Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots that were standing, locked in battle, on the middle of the coffee table. What I hadn't noticed before, though, was the interesting decorations that adorned the blue one. With a fresh burst of laughter, I snatched the robots off the table.

Upon closer inspection, I realized that the blue robot was a fucking sight to behold. Atop its head, there was a doll-sized cowboy hat, paired with a red bandana tucked neatly across its neck. The entire body was plastered from chest to foot with various Speed Racer stickers, in addition to one, red-and-black Thundercats emblem, strategically placed square in the crotch. More interesting yet was the Malibu Barbie Coconut bra, tied tightly across its chest, and the entire specimen was finished off with a tiny laser gun, expertly glued to one of its fists.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed in another round of giggles. "What the fuck is _this_?"

He grinned for a moment, then began to laugh along with me, dropping his pissy attitude at the sight of the ridiculous toy.

"It's Jasper," he said simply, as if expecting the answer to be highly obvious.

"Jasper," I repeated with an expectant look on my face.

"Jasper if he were the Blue Bomber, anyway," he shrugged, thoroughly amused.

I examined the silly thing carefully, noting the precision with which it had been accessorized. "What's up with the shiny laser gun?"

Just like that, his amused look was gone, and he was back to being exasperated Edward again, all flared nostrils and wide eyes. "It's not a shiny laser gun," he said disdainfully. "It's a fucking energon axe, and it glows."

"The robot doesn't have fingers."

"Optimus Prime has fingers," he snapped back.

Clearly, I was missing something. "What the fuck does the big ugly one have to do with Blue Basher over here?"

He inhaled sharply and spoke dangerously low, "First, you defiler of all things sacred, it's the Blue _Bomber_. Secondly, nostalgia killer, Optimus Prime, as he likes to be called, has the energon axe."

_Uh huh_. "So why is it glued to whats-his-nuts?"

He huffed at me in disbelief, apparently not understanding why I was so dense of all things boy-revered. "Because now the Blue Bomber is the fucking epitome of awesome. He's all Rock 'Em Sock 'Em with Optimus Fucking Prime's axe. He could pretty much only be more awesome if he were nailing Cheetara. How do you not get that?"

"How the fuck are you still nine years old?"

I half expected him to throw something before his stern face broke into the infectious grin I'd come to look for.

I returned it while still internally wheeling. Who would have thought that Edward Doesn't-Remember-What-It's-Like-to-be-a-Virgin Cullen was a hopeless closet nerd? I had to change the subject before I collapsed into hysterics at the revelation.

"Exactly how long have you guys been coming here, anyway?" I asked as I set the robots back on the table.

He pondered for a brief minute before we spoke, gazing thoughtfully into space. "Since somewhere around the third grade. We decided to ditch school one day and ride our fucking mopeds to Port Angeles. Not the best fucking idea I've ever had, but there it is, all the same. I don't remember now what the hell we were going for, but Jasper had one of those giant fucking sleeping bags strapped to his back, like he was climbing Mount Everest or some shit."

I smiled at the absurdity of it. It was just so . . . Jasper. "He did not," I laughed.

Cullen chuckled back, clearly reminiscing. "Oh, he did. And giant fucking goggles. Picture that shit. And throw in a gold lamé cummerbund, carrying a god damn pick axe." He shook his head ruefully and continued, "But because we live in fucking Forks, we were only four hours into it before it started pouring like fucking monsoon season." He paused here for a minute, chuckling softly again.

"So we turned down that deserted road back there, effectively cutting off oncoming traffic, much to Jasper's seriously creepy delight – he fucking loves making people honk at him, by the way. So I guess we figured we'd find some place to dry out, and there it was. Creepy as fuck when you're eight years old, but it had some mojo. After Jasper MacGuyvered the lock open with a fucking corkscrew," he smirked as he patted the wall behind us, "we knew we'd be coming back a lot more often."

I smiled at the sweet story and looked down at my hands. A dangerous swell of something I refused to acknowledge was threatening to lump in my throat, and I quickly grabbed the bottle and refilled our empty shot glasses.

"To truancy once again, then," I smirked as I looked up at him from under my lashes.

"Truancy," he nodded, but continued to watch me closely, those damn green eyes of his attempting to bore straight into mine. I looked away from him swiftly, swallowed my shot, then set it back on the table, carefully avoiding his gaze.

"So, Cullen," I asked, once my eyes had locked on the deck of cards that he had set on the coffee table. "Were you planning on busting those out, or what?"

"Sure," he answered, and dropped his eyes from me as he reached for the deck. I silently breathed a sigh of relief as I watched him begin to shuffle the cards, then grinned slyly. I picked the bottle back up, poured us round 5, then lifted my eyes back to him, full of renewed confidence. I was a fucking ace at cards - my mother had dragged me through gambling establishments since before I could walk. I internally debated the number of rounds it would take before we morphed into strip poker as I handed Cullen his glass.

"Easy, Swan," he chuckled as he accepted the glass. "I don't want to have to carry your drunk ass out of here."

"You wish," I winked, then tipped back my glass. I had a decent buzz going, but I was nowhere _near_ drunk. Because Bella Fucking Swan does not do drunk - ever. As I replaced my glass, I looked up to see Cullen beginning to deal our cards, just as I had expected. But what I _didn't_ expect was the hand of seven he dealt both of us before slapping the remaining stack down between us, right on the leather couch.

"This isn't like any poker I've ever played before. . ." I trailed off, warily.

Without raising his eyes to mine, Edward replied, "That's because its Go Fish, Swan. Now pick up your cards."

I couldn't help the stupid grin that graced my lips at his response. I mean, _Go Fish_? For the life of me, I could not figure out his fucking angle. Deciding to humor him, I picked up my hand and glanced at it before asking, "Got any 4's?"

"Who the fuck said you get to go first?" Cullen replied as he arched an eyebrow at me.

I smirked as I responded, "Ladies first, Cullen. Never forget that shit."

With a sigh, he threw a four of spades at me, and I picked it up, smiling with utter delight.

"Don't fuck with me, Cullen," I warned in good humor as I set my pair on the table. "I took my entire kindergarten class with this shit."

He shook his head as he chuckled softly. "Shut the fuck up, Swan, and ask again."

"Got any 7s?"

"Go Fish."

"Damn," I sighed.

"Jacks?" Cullen asked as he peered at me from over his cards.

"_Damn!_" I huffed, then threw my Jack of hearts at him.

He grinned lopsidedly at me before plucking the Jack from the couch and setting his pair on the table, a few inches from mine. Once he had set the pair down, he used his free hand to grab the bottle of Jack, then swiftly poured us another round. Wordlessly, we nodded at each other, gulped them down, then returned back to the game. I shifted on the couch, tucking my legs beneath me and leaned over my cards, eyeing him expectantly.

"Got any 3s?" he asked me with a sly, lopsided grin.

"Hell the fuck no," I grinned back. "Got any 8s?"

With a furtive glance at his cards, he looked back at me and responded with a simple. "Nope." But the way that he had set his jaw tipped me off immediately, and I gasped with playful shock.

"You do _too_!" I accused, trying to keep my laughter in check.

"I sure as hell do not," he replied seriously, although I could see the corners of his lips beginning to twitch.

"Liar!" I laughed as I held out my hand. "Give me the fucking 8, Cullen, before I destroy your ass."

At this, Cullen threw his head back and laughed in earnest. "Fat fucking chance, lightweight."

Instead of answering him, I shot my hand out and wrapped my fingers in a death grip around his wrist. His laughter abruptly ceased as he looked down at me in amazement, and I smirked devilishly as I dropped my cards in my lap. Using my free hand, I grabbed his cards and began pulling fiercely, attempting to yank them right out of his hand. But just when they were about to give way, Edward ripped his forearm back behind his head, taking me right along with it. With a small squeal, I shot forward, landing on my side, half on top of him, with both our arms raised above our heads, still locked in a battle for the cards. I couldn't control my snickering as I continued to tug at his wrist, refusing to give up. With a mischievous grin, Cullen snapped his wrist backward, then released the cards, letting them fall in a heap on the floor.

"Oh my _God_!" I laughed, "You fucking _cheat_!"

"And that," he shrugged nonchalantly, "is how I took _my_ kindergarten class."

"You douchebag!" I exclaimed indignantly. But somehow, my laughter took over, and I fell into an all-consuming fit of giggles. Cullen joined in, and the cards were soon completely forgotten as we laid against the arm of the couch, with me half-sprawled on top of him, laughing like fucking morons. Once the chuckling had subsided, Edward shifted slightly, and I rolled off of him, nestling between his side and the back of the couch. With his other hand, Cullen grabbed the bottle of Jack, took a healthy swig, then passed it to me. I followed suit, and we continued to lie there comfortably, passing the bottle back and forth, each lost in our own thoughts.

I was definitely feeling the Jack as I lounged lazily beside him, staring up at the ceiling. But even with the killer buzz I had going, I wondered why the fuck I wasn't jumping Cullen's shit. I mean - that had been my plan all along. I had vandalized my own goddamn truck to get here, for chrissakes! But whether it was from the Jack, or Edward himself, I felt warm and comfortable, and had absolutely no desire to move a fucking inch. So I continued to lie there, my side pressed against Edward's as we passed the bottle back and forth, completely and ridiculously content.

"Bella," Edward murmured suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Yeah?" I answered softly, my eyes still locked on the ceiling.

"Why did you leave Phoenix?"

I winced at his question. Stupid fucking Phoenix. Why did he have to bring that shit up now? But to my utter astonishment, I found myself answering him.

"My mom met someone," I shrugged, hoping he would drop it.

"So what, then," he pried, "he's a dick?"

_Damnit_.

"Flaming cock," I answered quietly. My voice sounded sad even to my own ears. Where the fuck was this honesty coming from, and why couldn't I seem to shut the hell up?

"Back to square one, then. Why did you move here?" Cullen asked, softer this time.

And without a second thought, I found myself answering once again. "Phil's a baseball player, and my mom decided that she wanted to hop on a fucking plane with him. Less than twenty-four hours later, my shit was packed."

"What a bitch," he stated, but with a surprisingly gentle tone. "So. . .wouldn't you be happy to get the fuck away from her?"

"It's. . .it's not my fucking mom. She can go to hell, for all I care," I answered, then grimaced. All the Jack must have been seriously fucking with me - I couldn't believe I was saying this shit. I tried to clam the fuck up before we entered dangerous territory.

And then, I felt the soft trail of warm fingers ghost across my jaw, coming to a gentle rest beneath my chin. So slowly, I wasn't sure if it was him or me, I felt my face tilt towards his until I found myself nose to perfect, chiseled nose with Edward Cullen. I couldn't even think.

""Your poker face is for shit. Spill it, Bella," he stated seriously, but his voice was just a gentle murmur as his eyes continued to search mine.

"Edward, I miss Phoenix," I admitted, unable to break his searing gaze. And then, because I was couldn't fucking see anything besides those dazzling, green eyes, my pathetic sob story came bubbling out in a rush. "I haven't spoken to any of my douchebag friends since my first day at Forks. They've already completely forgotten about me. And it's not that I didn't expect that shit - I mean, out of sight, out of mind, right? But. . .it's just. . .I have _history_ there. I left my fucking _life_ back there. And now I'm trapped in fucking Forks. I mean, what the hell do I have here? What the fuck do I have _now_?!"

I bit my lip harshly and cast my eyes downward, utterly embarrassed. I could not _believe_ I had just thrown a hissy fit in front of Edward Cullen. I silently cursed Jack Daniel to the flaming fires of hell as I felt my cheeks begin to grow hot. Great. Now I was blushing? I hadn't done that shit since I was _ten_. What the fuck was _wrong_ with me?

"Fuck 'em," he breathed softly, then tilted his head downward, locking his eyes once again with mine. God _damn_ him and that stupid, smoldering gaze.

I crinkled my brow and opened my mouth with a defiant objection on my lips, but he shook his head minutely, cutting me off.

"Fuck. Them, Bella. They're worthless. You're Bella Fucking Swan, you don't need that shit. Since when do you care what people think?"

_I don't_, I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him I didn't give a shit about anyone or anything - I never had, and I never fucking would. But I couldn't bring myself to say it. Because as I sat there, gazing into Edward's eyes, so close that I could taste his breath on my tongue, I realized with shock that I was staring at the one face that had become the exception to that rule.

Or would have been the exception, if that were possible. I refused to examine the part of myself that wanted to care about Edward Cullen - the part of me that was screaming for me to kiss his stupid, gorgeous face and tell him just how much I adored his infuriating smirk and big dumb sex hair and untied shoes. The part that would let him cheat at Go Fish and play with Transformers action figures like a hopeless dork.

But I couldn't. _Wouldn't_. Because Bella Fucking Swan does not do action figures. Bella Fucking Swan does not do sloppy hair and untied shoes. But, most importantly, Bella Swan does not, under any fucking circumstances, do exceptions.

But at that moment, I saw Edward's eyes sink slowly down my face, seeming to take in every detail before they came to rest on my lips.

Suddenly, all objections fled from my mind, and I felt my skin begin to tingle wherever his body was touching it. I was suddenly hyper-aware of the way his chest rose and fell against mine, and the warmth of his breath across my cheeks, and the delicious scent of his skin. But I was even more aware of the slight leaning of his head as he began to tilt it sideways, leaning closer to me. And then, I was leaning towards him, and I couldn't breathe as our lips drifted closer and closer, and all I could think was if I had wanted this so much, why was I so scared?

And then, all thought abruptly stopped as I felt his lips just barely brush against mine, and I leaned just a little bit closer, losing myself completely in the sensation. . .

"IM A BARBIE GIRL, IN MY BARBIE WOOOORLD."

Aqua rang through the room, gay voices blaring, coming from somewhere between our bodies. And suddenly, Edward was off the couch, jumping like his goddamn ass was on fire as he fished his iPhone out of his pocket. He had moved so quickly that I fell forward, face flat against the leather cushion. I looked up in complete shock to see Edward snapping his phone to his ear.

"What?" he answered gruffly, and even from several feet away, I could hear Emmett's booming voice over the phone.

"CULLEN!" he thundered, "WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOUR KEYS?"

In my fucking pocket, cocksucker, right where they belong." Edward practically growled. "See you in fifteen." As he disconnected the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket, I caught bits and pieces of mostly inaudible grumbles. He muttered something that could have been "stupid fucking" and "bambi eyes", and turned back to me, all warmth gone from his expression.

"We gotta go," was his only explanation.

A shocking combination of rejection and rage washed through me, and I stood immediately. Without a word, I marched to the door, then waited there with my back toward him. From behind me, I heard him drag a chair toward the windows, then watched the room sink into blackness as he strung the sheet across the glass. I threw open the door and marched toward his car, not waiting before yanking the door open and sinking into it. I could not fucking believe what had just happened. How could I have been so fucking _stupid_? I barely restrained myself from punching him in the fucking face as he climbed in the drivers seat, opting to look out the window instead.

With all his disgusting charm and childish antics, I could not fucking _believe_ I had forgotten about whatever bullshit game he was playing. But I sure as fucking hell remembered now. The entire afternoon had been nothing but a pile of horseshit, and I was fucking _livid_.

I fumed in complete and utter silence the entire way home, not once turning from the window. Whatever the fuck had just happened, it obviously hadn't meant shit. Which was just fucking fine with me, because I now had more motivation than _ever_ to figure this bullshit game out.

And I would. Oh, I fucking would.

The moment Edward pulled up to my house, I threw open the door and slammed it behind me, wishing like hell that the window would break and spray glass all over his fucking face. I stormed into the house and went straight to my room, slamming my own bedroom door behind me. Obviously, Cullen was a lost cause - not to mention a fucking bitch and a liar. But there were four more fucking people caught up in this shit that I was pretty fucking sure would prove to be much easier targets.

With a huff, I ripped my cell phone from my bag and dialed away. It took only two rings before the line connected.

"Hello?" was the airy greeting.

"Hey, Alice. Listen, you got any plans for this weekend?" I asked, smirking wickedly.

_Better play your fucking cards right, Cullen. Because the stakes in this little game have risen, and I. Don't. Fucking. Lose._

_

* * *

_

**GAH! What a twatwaffle! **

**Scrubs! Who caught it?**

**I wonder what Edward was thinking during these shenanigans? Hmmm? The best reviewers will know early! Do work, soN!**_  
_


	9. Gut Shot

I have to say, my BBs, this is probably my favorite chapter yet. I poured my heart and soul into this, and if you know me, you'll see pieces of my heart all over this. I hope you love it as much as I do, and thank MOST of you for waiting patiently for it.

A gajillion dollars and a baby pool fulla puddin' to whoever finds this chapter's Pop Culture Reference: the HBO series Entourage.

_**YOU MUST LISTEN TO TWO PARTICULAR SONGS WHILE READING THIS CHAPTER. YOU ABSOLUTELY MUST.**_

_**If you don't, you've just defeated the entire fucking purpose, and don't even bother reading it. Links are on my profile – honest to god, you HAVE to listen to it while reading, or it won't fucking make sense. Don't argue, just do it.**_

So here we go, mah bbs. Enjoy.

* * *

EPOV

I was driving home from dropping Bella off, half drunk, half hard, and all pissed. What the fuck just happened? Where the shit was I when it was happening? It was like my brain melted somewhere along the way and some part of me that I most certainly had no control over took right the fuck over everything that I said or did.

Well screw that sideways.

Edward-Makes-Wilt-Chamberlain-Look-Like-A-Fucking-Priest Cullen does not do mushy. Mushy is for pussies. And mashed potatoes. And other things that are … un… mushy.

Well, _fuck_. As always, it was a bad sign that I was making up words. It usually meant that Bella had worked her fucking mystery hoodoo all over my brain and my cognizant thought packed the fuck up and went on vacation.

What the HELL just happened? I knew I should have just taken her to school but my brain did that autopilot bullshit again where I had absolutely no control. And if I were honest with myself, which I absolutely fucking refused to do – because when the hell did anything good ever come out of that? – I would have admitted that I wasn't fighting it very hard.

I'm not even sure how we ended up at the Clubhouse. I mean, one minute we're sitting at Ihop and she's eating fucking peaches and slurping down Jack with a splash of coffee and the next thing I know, she's sauntering around my secret fucking hideout looking all delicious and shit. If this were a trial, I'd plead mental incompetence, and you know what? I'd win that shit too, because if my judge had a cock and he saw Bella parading around without a fucking bra and threatening to carve up the slutty hostess like a Virgina ham, he'd be on my side too. No jury would convict me. Hard nipples and violent tendencies? Could she _get _ any hotter? Fucking sociopathic temptress.

And it wasn't even like I took a girl to the Clubhouse to get laid, because even though bringing any broad in there was an offense punishable by death, it would have been at least understandable. I _knew_ I couldn't fuck her and I brought her there anyway. What the fuck was that about? She was so fucking ridiculous! I mean, who doesn't know that Bumblebee isn't a fucking Camaro? And what kind of fucking sacrilegious asshole calls Optimus Prime "the big ugly one"? Logically, and well within my rights, I should have sentenced her to beheading by fucking guillotine for that offense. But for some reason it was … cute? … when she did it. _Fuck me. _

Those god forsaken Bambi eyes just fucking twinkled and sparkled and brimmed over with happiness and I was all fucking confused. That had to be it. Because really, who the fuck says shit like "twinkled"? If I wasn't so entirely sure that I wanted to rail that ridiculous girl until her eyes rolled back in her head, I would have probably declared myself a hopeless fruitcake and gone shopping for hot pants and pink suspenders, because FUCK.

I don't know what the hell inspired me to go so ridiculous. For once that thing in my head that tells me what to say to get bitches naked just … turned off. I didn't give her any lines that bitches usually fall for and I didn't try to maneuver her clothes off and I didn't do any of the stuff I normally do to get 'em bent over and begging … and I didn't fucking understand it. I was… _honest_ with her. I said whatever the fuck I was thinking and I actually _laughed_. Not the smug bastard chuckle that drops panties, that I have to time and think about and use effectively (hey – the shit could be disastrous if used improperly. All sorts of panties would go flying, and that could be a tragedy of epic proportions.) but I genuinely just … laughed. And explained Transformers, which is something you either get you or you don't - and if you don't, you fucking suck and I'll punch you in the junk - but for some reason, I _wanted _her to get it. I played Go Fish and I explained the awesomeness of the energon axe and I did things that Edward Cool-Hand-Luke Cullen just does not _do_ – and I did them for Bella.

I'm not entirely sure how that shit happened, but it was a safe bet that it was bad fucking news. I was even more fucked than I thought, which in turn was because I _wasn't_ getting fucked, but wait, wasn't that how I was going to win the bet? Which, consequently meant that _not _getting fucked was a good thing, except I was reasonably sure I had never _wanted_ to get fucked more, but only in the literal way, not the figurative way because that sort of fucking meant walking, which is just the sort of fuckery I _didn't_ need and I'm not sure that I even cared at that point because I was fucking confused and I'm pretty sure I just said the word fuckery, which isn't a word at all, and if we're going with stupid shit like "fuckery", then I am immersed in a sea of jackassery, and I'm pretty sure it's all my fault. FUCK.

I hate my fucking life.

I sighed dejectedly as I turned onto my street. I would never admit it because, fuck that, I'm Edward Motherfucking Pimphand Cullen, but I was seriously starting to worry about what the fuck I had gotten myself into. I tried not to grin as I pulled into the drive and saw Jasper's giant boat of a car parked crooked across it, he himself seated on the hood, playing a harmonica. Oh what in the holy hell was he wearing?

I chuckled in spite of myself, because shit, I dare you not to chuckle at Drunksper wearing a fucking poncho, sitting on the hood of a 1972 Buick Riviera Boattail playing a harmonica and wearing a big black bolero.

Slowly, I got out of the Volvo and walked to him, hopping up next to him on the hood. Wordlessly, he passed me the flask he was sipping from and continued playing what sounded like "Texas Flood" in his own time, tipping the hat down low over his face.

After a while he finished, and silently leaned back on his elbows. He was pretty toasted, judging by the thickness of his twang as he asked, "So how'd it go?"

"How'd the fucking Bay of Pigs go?" I grimaced as I threw back a big gulp of liquor.

Jasper shrugged and grinned, "Fair enough." We were silent a few more minutes, watching the clouds and passing the flask back and forth, before I asked, "So you're not gonna ask me if I fucked her?"

"I know you didn't fuck her," he said somberly. I drunkenly lolled my head to face him questioningly and he continued, "You sure don't look like a man who just fucked SugarTits McGee."

"Ain't that the truth," I mumbled.

More time passed in silence, before he drawled quietly, "So since you love her and all, you just gonna buy a new Volvo, or go for a coupe this time?"

I didn't have the energy left to punch him in the mouth and make him swallow that fucking harmonica, so I just snorted and took another drink.

"What's with the goofy hat, fruit juice?"

Jasper's face went as serious as Jasper's face possibly can go, and he glared at me angrily before pointing his finger and growling, "Show some fucking respect, Cullen. This is my Stevie Ray tribute. You don't mock the Music Gods, brother. You just don't."

I smirked a little as I watched his eyes go far away and his head started moving slightly in time to the music that he was almost certainly hearing in own drunk brain. Jasper had done that shit as long as I could remember, sober or not, first grade or tenth. Just floated away on music he played in his head.

I went back to staring at the sky as I asked quietly, "What are we listening to?"

I knew he was smiling with his eyes closed and he spoke a little louder than necessary, no doubt trying to be heard over the music, "Tin Pan Alley."

I almost rolled my eyes, but conceded instead, "One of his best. Which version?"

"With Johnny Copeland at Montreaux."

"Not his best work, Jas. Too drugged out."

Shaking his head slightly and almost wincing as he followed the impeccable steel blues riffs his mind was no doubt playing back flawlessly he argued, "Disagree, brother. Torture makes an artist better."

"That why you can play any instrument you pick up?"

"Fuckin' right, Cullen. You think dealin' with yer bitch ass on a daily isn't downright painful?"

I chuckled as his fingers started to twitch, tickling the frets in his mind, because son of a bitch if he wasn't right. Fucking Jasper.

Putting up with my shit had to be difficult, but he did it, day after day, being fucking ridiculous and absurdly deep at the same time. It was a crazy ass dichotomy that I'm reasonably sure only that bastard could pull off.

I sensed some movement next to me and cracked an eye to look Jasper's direction. He was moving slightly, rocking with the rhythm in his mind, shaking his head slightly as he followed the complex licks. He was so … _ridiculous_, it was just painful. I mean, how the fuck else would you describe this kid? This seventeen year old kid with a thousand year old soul, wearing a bolero with a foot long feather in it and cowboy boots, sitting on a forty-seven year old four-thousand pound Buick, identifying with the blues music only in his head, practically vibrating with the riffs. And spouting stupid shit about how I loved the sacrilegious asshole just showed how ridiculous and drunk he really was, this crazy fuck in a poncho in my driveway –

"You do too, you self-deluded sumbitch," he drawled slowly, never opening his eyes, or losing his place in the song.

What the everloving shit? Had I just spoken out loud? No, I was sure I hadn't.

"No, brother, you didn't. Didn't mean you weren't screamin' though. Just 'cuz you can't hear it don't mean shit. For all yer piano prodigy bullshit, you are one deaf motherfucker. Stop talkin' and listen every now and then."

I sighed exasperatedly, "Jasper-"

"My brother, I say this with love: shut the fuck up. Shut up yer fat mouth and yer dick and yer hollerin' brain and just … listen."

And I did. I quit trying to cut him off and I quit letting my dick tell me to find and impale Bella, and I let my brain stop screaming at me about how fucking awesome I am, even though it's true and just … listened.

At first I heard only the crickets, and then I heard only silence, and then I started to hear … _it. _

The music.

It wasn't the same as Jasper's. At least I don't think. I couldn't get it quite clearly, but I heard _something, _and fuck, it wasn't any of the stupid shit I had been telling myself since the first time I laid eyes (and unfortunately not hands or dick) on Doe Eyes, and there was a good chance it was more fucking profound than anything I'd ever heard before.

And fuck _that_, because nothing good can come of being profound. Where the fuck would that leave me? I shook my head, clearing the haze that was smeared with indecipherable notes of music. Fucking shit –

"S'okay, brother. You're not ready to hear it yet."

How the _hell_ did he know this shit?

"Told you. Just 'cuz nothin's comin' outta yer mouth doesn't mean you're not up at the top of yer lungs. Heard it though, didn't you? Couldn't tell what it was, but you heard it. Like a radio with a bad frequency."

Quietly, I whispered, "Yeah, Jas, I did."

What the fuck just happened?

He chuckled softly and shook his head. "Well at least you're not completely fuckin' hopeless, you stubborn fuck. Come on and let's head in the house. Emmett an'em are gonna be here soon."

Somehow, that ridiculous fuck knew that I had reached my epiphany's breaking point. Couldn't handle any more self realization. And just as I was about to run the fuck away and forget the whole thing, he talked me down from the ledge, just by calling me a dipshit. I love that alcoholic philosophical fucktard.

"Jasper?"

"I know, brother."

He grinned sloppily in the darkness, "Edward?"

As I jumped down and took a few unsteady steps toward the house, I called over my shoulder, "Yeah, Jas?"

His drunk eyes danced, and I knew the tune in his head had changed when he did a goofy fucking flop-wiggle and giggled delightedly, "I'm not wearin' any fuckin' pants under here!"

Fucking Jasper.

***

* * *

I was flipping through the channels idly while Jasper was sitting in the corner, the black bolero pulled down dramatically over his face, creating an all out knock-down-drag-out-death match between Shockwave and Skyfire, sound effects and voices and all, when I heard Emmett's big honking Jeep tear down the street.

Son of a bitch.

The door flew open and smacked violently against the wall and his booming voice echoed off the vaulted ceilings, "CULLEN! Where the fuck are my keys? I wanna test drive my new dad-car!"

Alice whizzed by, circumvented Rose and Emmett, ruffling my hair on her way to stick her ass in Jasper's all-too-obliging hands. He even put down Shockwave to get a good grip. (Although I noticed he held on to Skyfire. Fucking Jasper.)

Emmett started knocking shit over, pushing things out of the way in his mad hunt for my keys when I cut him off, "I didn't fuck her, douche bag, get off it."

The big bastard didn't even blink, just kept searching vehemently and said, "Yeah right, fuckface. You were gone with SweetAss von PerkyTits all fucking day and didn't hit it. Uh-huh. Don't you have a spare somewhere in this bitch?"

That shit pissed me off. It wasn't like I didn't fuck her for lack of _wanting_ to, he didn't have to rub the shit in. I was not in the mood for this and I was about flip my shit and launch myself at the bastard, not even caring if I took Rose down with me, because I'm sure she deserved it too when Jasper, ever the King of Dumb Luck Timing intervened, "Emmett, bro, does that look like the face of a man who hopped on the good foot and did the bad thing with that delicious piece of ass? No sir, it surely does fucking not."

Emmett stared incredulously at Jasper, then back at me, then again at Jasper, before finally looking at me intently, searching, before his face fucking fell in disappointment. He looked like he just lost his favorite jockstrap.

He started grumbling shit about "drawing it out" and "give me the fucking car already", pouting and sulking like a fucking four year old when he lit up like the light bulb just went off over his head and glared at me suspiciously, "Well what the fuck _did_ you do then?"

That rat bastard. I couldn't say a fucking thing about Fort Awesome, because Alice and Rose were right there, and I started having flashes of Alice whirling around the inside of my happy place, disposing of porn and burning my Transformers, throwing around chintz and fabric samples and floor lamps and _fuck_!

Jasper's eyes went wide and he clutched Skyfire painfully, looking as terrified as any man had a right to look, clearly seeing the same thing I was. Love only goes so far … then comes Transformers and porn.

With Alice burrowed happily into his chest, he cut in calmly, "Aw, Em, jealous yer boyfriend might be losing interest? Don't worry, honey, he still comes home to you," effectively derailing Emmett's train of thought and launching the gullible bastard into a series of "Fuck you's" and manliness displays. Thank the sweet baby Jesus, because I couldn't handle any more vagina defiling my den of the Holy Man Trifecta – porn, liquor, and G1 Transformers.

I sighed in relief and zoned the fuck out while everyone else argued about which movie to watch and broke out the beer, groping and dry humping and joking and shit-talking, completing our usual ritual. I refused to think about how just over a week ago, it was this same scene that destroyed my fucking life. And by life, I mean sex life, because it might as well be the same shit.

Somewhere around midnight, I gave up trying to stomach watching that shit, because I was fucking pissed that Bella wasn't on my lap, laughing and humping and looking and sounding delicious and ridiculous and infuriating. I drained the rest of my beer and jogged up to my room to shower and shave and grumble and bitch to myself before finally crawling into my bed, drunk, exhausted, and pissed.

I tried to think back over the day but it just turned my fucking stomach when I got to the end, for reasons I couldn't fucking understand and didn't dare try to investigate. Self-denial is one of my strongest fucking abilities and I wasn't about to start trying to change that shit, because why fuck with a good thing?

As I drifted off, somewhere between mostly asleep and a little awake, I began to hear guitar licks, and a strained, throaty voice quietly sing "The Sky is Crying". I was _almost_ sure it was Jasper in the other room.

***

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, I showered and looked out the window to see Emmett's Jeep was gone, although Jasper's giant land yacht still held a monopoly of my driveway. I wasn't sure if he'd grabbed a ride with Emmett and the girls, or if I'd find him eating cereal, wearing an honest to god Captain Crunch hat at the breakfast table. It wouldn't be the first time.

I thought back to yesterday and didn't even bother to curse myself for it this time as my fingers made their way to my phone involuntarily. Before I knew what the fuck was happening, I had called Bella, and like a bitch, was listening in rapt anticipation to the ringing, waiting earnestly to hear her voice.

As I waited for her to answer, I devised the most clever plan I could come up with. I'd ask her if she needed another ride to school. I was a fucking _genius_. Subtle, yet feasible.

She didn't answer.

What the fuck?

Since when does a chick not answer when Edward-My-Dick-is-the-Holy-Grail Cullen fucking calls? Obviously, there was some sort of cellular malfunction afoot, and a tower somewhere had fallen over and diverted my call to Bumfucked Nowhere three towns over, because it had _certainly_ never reached Bella's phone. That was the _only_ logical explanation.

Being that I'm so fucking generous, I waited a few seconds and called again, this time willing the call to divert through a different tower and go straight to Bella's phone, because I wasn't willing to allow for the same error as before to fuck up my plans. I knew the shit would work, because I am Edward Motherfucking-Make-the-Planets-Move Cullen. A little cell signal was nothing.

Again, she didn't answer. It was at that point that I became a little worried. I wondered if she was dead. It was the only thing that made sense. I willed her phone to ring, despite the obviously malfunctioning cell phone company, so of course it had, and she still wasn't answering? She had obviously fallen down the stairs and was lying crippled, if not dead at the bottom, trying to drag her mangled, useless limbs behind her to get to the phone, knowing I was calling. There was no other option. Poor Bella. I hoped she'd make a full recovery with therapy. I wondered if she'd let me jump on the back of her wheelchair and race down the hall with a fire-extinguisher jet-pack fuel-propelling system. I bet I could race Jasper and win, even with the extra weight. Maybe she'd let me put a little decal on the side –

Fuck.

I was going delusional again. I just called a girl _twice, _and she didn't answer. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

As I got into my car angrily, not even soothed by the fact that it was still silver and playing manly music, I wondered if there was any truth to that "if you don't use it, you lose it" thing. In wild-eyed fear, I reached down to cup my junk, making sure there boys were still there and operational. Exorbitantly relieved, I sighed and gave them a little pat. They were troopers. I wondered if it would be outlandish to buy medals for them. They were risking it all for the sake of this fucking bet. That called for a purple heart, I was pretty sure. Something about the line of fire.

I kept idly thinking about stupid ridiculous shit as I drove to school, not willing to examine the fact that I had just called a girl twice. _On purpose._ I couldn't even blame this shit on my ass cheek pressing the call button with the phone in my back pocket. I was obviously temporarily insane. I wondered if "Lack of Vagina" was a valid legal defense. I was pretty sure it would be, because seriously – _Not even a BLOW JOB, Your Honor. _I bet I'd get a medal for _that_.

When I got to school, I spied Bella hopping out of Emmett's Jeep, chatting amusedly with Alice, even joking with Rosalie, expertly bearing the weight of Bear Claw's gigundous meat-cleaver of an arm. Jasper was present, and actually walking in a straight line, although he did it in snakeskin cowboy boots and a shirt with a ruffled collar and sleeves, this time with the feather in his bolero at least two feet long. At least he was wearing pants. Was there a fucking store that catered to this shit? Was Jasper their only customer?

As I made my into the laughing mess of them, Emmett gave me a knowing grin while tugging Rosalie away, giving me a one fingered wave over his shoulder. Alice chattered away at Bella, bounced up and down and kissed her on the cheek before dancing away, Jasper trailing enthusiastically behind her strolling cockily, feather blowing in the wind.

Happily relieved to see that Bella was not, in fact, crippled miserably and trying in earnest to reach the phone for the heavenly respite of my voice, I sauntered up to her and grinned, waiting for her to explain exactly who in her family died this morning, preventing her from answering the phone. I hoped it wasn't her father – then she'd be in mourning for god knew how long, and I'd never get to hit it.

She shot me a "Fuck you, bastard" look and walked right past me, smacking the shit out of me with her shoulder as she shoved me aside, knocking me off balance momentarily. _What the fuck?_

Obviously she was still grieving, I consoled myself. I reasoned that I would charm her out of her apparent stupor in biology, and then I'd be doing us both a favor because I'd quit having to look at those mean ass looks, and she'd forget all about the dead of relative of what had to be her immediate family. _Way to go Cullen, you fucking superhuman genius, you._

I did not, however, take into account the fact that maybe there was no dead relative and perhaps my charm would not be effective in this situation. It was like dividing by fucking zero; it was impossible to compute.

I was charming as hell all day long, all crooked grins and cleverly disguised sexual innuendo, dimples and subtle humor, smirks and deep voiced suggestions. I was at the top of my fucking game, and she just kept giving me these death looks. It was fucking mind boggling. And I knew there hadn't been a blip in the universe or something, because I was attracting bitches from a football field away, so clearly my mojo was as effective as always. I wondered if it was Mother Nature's will that Bella wasn't responding. There was quite obviously something wrong with her – perhaps evolution was trying to keep her defective line from reproducing and creating more little weirdos with no sense of self-preservation and an immunity to my fucking epic amounts of awesome. The shit was just weird. It defied logic and science and more importantly, my will. I hoped she was never taken hostage and used for evil, because a resistance that strong could bring down the entire free world.

By lunch, I was convinced Bella was half brain-dead and I vowed to be charitable about it and buy her coloring books and giant crayons for the rest of her life.

By the last class, I was certain that she existed in a forcefield of cluelessness and that I would need a harpoon and some uranium to rescue her.

By the time I got home, I was quite sure that the _real_ Bella had been stolen by some extraterrestrial alien freak who was doing scientific experiments to recreate her perfect fucking ass on his own little green women, and the bitch at school was a really good Doppelganger.

By nine that night, I was running out of reasons, and could only be certain that a sick mad scientist had given her a lobotomy and replaced her frontal lobe with some anti-Edward motherboard that was ruining my life.

By midnight, I had given up trying to delude myself and was almost to the point of examining why the fuck I cared so much.

By two after midnight, I had decided that was fucking stupid and was in my car on my way to Bella's house, because obviously, I had been afflicted by the mad scientist myself. There was no other way to explain my behavior.

By the time I shimmied my way up the tree outside her window, managing to tear my shirt and obtain at least three splinters and a puncture wound, I stopped trying to justify anything because, _fuck¸_ I just had to see her and make that angry face go away, and fuck the reasons.

I ducked as leaves tried to attack my hair, the jealous bastards, and peered in Bella's window. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, long, bare sex-legs crossed, filing her nails viciously. From the look of it, they were guilty of some serious fucking transgression, because was filing furiously and scowling like a fucking harpy.

Before I fell out of the fucking tree and died, thereby cursing the entire female population for the rest of human kind's existence, I reached out and knocked on the window. Her head darted up quickly, the angry scowl replaced momentarily by shock. Her big Bambi eyes widened, and something in my chest that I refused to acknowledge got all fuzzy and speedy. Obviously I was suffering from indigestion.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, the shock vanished, and was replaced with a frightening, all-consuming rage. It would have been fucking sexy if it wasn't directed at me. So because it was, it was terrifying, because I'm really fond of my own ass.

With a disgusted growl, she hurled the file angrily at the window, making me flinch and almost lose my precarious grip on the branches. She strode to the window purposefully, and hands on those deliciously full hips, spit harshly "What the _fuck_ are you doing, Cullen? Get your fucking ass the _hell_ out of my tree!"

For some unfathomable reason, I didn't shoot her the bird and vanish. Instead, I held up gashed hands and said back, "Don't fuck with me, Swan. I'm a man on the edge, and I'll break this fucking window and take your ass down with me if I have to. Quit dicking around and open it."

She raised a distrustful eyebrow, but unlocked the window and took a step backwards. Not giving her a chance to change her crazy fucking mind, I swiftly opened it and stood in front of her, still bleeding and breathing harshly, because I really hadn't thought of anything to say once I got to this point.

Because my brain and mouth were obviously fucking disconnected at this point, and neither was working properly, I breathed out, "So your Doppelganger has great tits too. And I'm sorry your family died. I brought you a coloring book."

She just stared at me, confused, and said, "What the fuck are you talking about, dickface?"

The girl had a point. I had no fucking idea. But I blamed that on the fact that her legs were bare and I could smell the peaches, and her lips were pursed angrily and I was seeing them that way around my cock, and the way they looked when they were making fun of me and laughing and I liked _both_ of them. Obviously, I was the one who had undergone the lobotomy.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes exasperatedly, "Fuck, Bella. I don't know. Quit being pissed off. It's fucking with me."

"Fucking with _you?" _she shrieked incredulously. "You arrogant, self-absorbed, cocksucking fuckwad! How _dare_ you? You come to _my_ fucking house. You knock on _my_ fucking window. And you're telling _me_ to stop fucking with_ you_?!" she raged violently.

Both those tiny little fists clenched up, and she took two strides toward me, a woman scorned and all that. It wasn't until that moment that I understood that whole fucking "hell hath no fury like" bullshit, because Jesus Tapdancing Christ, she was fucking _scary_. I was pretty convinced I was about to get fucking whaled on, and even then, I was pretty sure I wasn't allowed to hit a girl. Especially one with tits that fantastic.

Involuntarily, I put my hands up to stem the blows I was about to take, calculating plastic surgery costs in my head. I couldn't let this face go to waste. Just as she was about to strike, the most ridiculous fucking words I had ever heard blurted out of my mouth, and for what was most likely the first time, _ever._

"I'm sorry."

She stopped mid-swing, and I looked out from between my arms, wild-eyed and still breathing hard, because I was pretty sure we just fell into a parallel dimension.

Her face was half unrestrained fury, half shocked disbelief, and her first was still cocked back, ready to fuck me up when she demanded defeatedly, "What did you just say?"

Still not understanding it myself, I lowered my arms and held my hands out.

"I said, I'm sorry."

We stood there, squared off in her ridiculously girly room, both breathing hard, her with death in her eyes, both mine and her own, still poised for violence, and me a study in supplication, looking sorry for the first time in my fucking life.

She sighed and dropped her hands, still looking at me distrustfully as she whispered, "Yeah. You really are."

I grinned crookedly as I whispered back, "Shutup, Swan," happy as could be, because god damnit, she wasn't gonna hit me, and I could have done a fucking jig. If Edward-Cooler-Than-the-Fucking-Fonze Cullen did shit like jigs.

"You were a bitch all day at school," I said delightedly, still on cloud nine that I wasn't getting Rodney Kinged.

"You were a fucking prick."

"Fair enough," I grinned, because well, she did have a point.

She snorted sarcastically and almost chuckled, "Next time you lay the Edward Cullen School of Sex Grin on so thick, you should be a little more careful about where you aim it. I'm pretty sure Jessica Stanley came in the middle of the cafeteria. We had to call Hazmat."

"Ah, but you noticed," I laughed. That did away with my evolutionary theory, because she _had_ noticed. However, her existence would still be a threat to national security if she were to fall in to the wrong hands … and I didn't fucking care, because she wasn't mad at me anymore, and the angry eyes were gone.

On a serious note, I asked somberly, "So, are we good now?" searching her eyes carefully.

She smirked ironically at me and quietly said, "Yeah. We're good."

I grinned again, and backed toward the window, because it was dawning on me that I was standing there in Bella's bedroom in the middle of the night, with her only half dressed, and nothing good would happen if I didn't pull a David Copperfield, real fucking quick.

As I ducked at the window, I looked back up at her.

"Ride to school in the morning?"

One corner of her perfect lips pulled up as she nodded, and I vanished out the window, giddy beyond belief, because motherfucker on a stick, I was gonna have her all to myself every day until that fucking hazard on wheels of hers was fixed.

It wasn't until I was humming away like a happy little douchebag in my car on my way home that the realization smacked me in the fucking face, and I physically reeled from it.

I would be alone. With Bella. In my car. Where anything could happen. Just like yesterday. When I kissed her. And almost ruined everything.

I was torn between the simultaneous urges to jerk off furiously, or haul ass to La Push and drive off a fucking cliff, going up in a fiery fucking blaze of glory.

_I hate my life._

* * *

_I love this chapter. I just do._

_If yer not on Twilighted (dot) net, come on over to the AU-Human forums, where we give teasers (if we don't have time to email them out, like in this case) and we play and frolick and grope each other in puddin' and take suggestions. DO IT!_

_Also, we were nominated for Best Collaboration in the Eddie & Bellie awards, so wahoO!! Head on over limona's profile for a link, or stop by mine and get over there and vote! Thanks kittens._

_MUAH!_


	10. Pocket Rockets

**We got such AWESOME love for the last chapter, we busted SERIOUS ass to get this out to you guys early!! My wifey is INCREDIBLE! Snugglesnugglelove. Being understanding and supportive pays off SO much you guys! We LOVE YOU and we hope you enjoy this chapter. Chap eleven is already in the works and there is some serious hilarious fuckery planned! I'm so excited! Bahahaha! Chapter our faster if anyone wants to write my art history midterm paper for me. *waggle waggle***

**As always, Twilight's not ours.**

**And awaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay we go!**

* * *

_Fucking_. _Cullen_.

For the thousandth time in two hours, those two words rang through my head, making me flop in bed with frustration.

I mean, what the _hell_?

Yesterday had been confusing enough - what with the hot and cold bullshit Cullen had pulled at the warehouse. One minute we'd been laughing and playing and rolling around like a couple of complete jackasses, and the next, he just dropped me like a bad fucking habit. I didn't even get a fucking kiss. I had spent all night after that, swearing up and down to myself that I was done with his arrogant ass until I could figure out what the hell was going on. And on top of all that, it was pretty fucking obvious that shit had gotten too deep - and Bella Fucking Swan does not do deep. Ever. I had even gone so far as to ignore both of his phone calls this morning - which I was pretty fucking sure had never happened to him before, the cocky prick - and had caught a ride with the gang instead.

So imagine my surprise when Edward My-Cock-Is-Fucking-Golden Cullen sauntered right up to me in the middle of the school parking lot, acting like nothing had even happened. I swear to God I had been about two fucking seconds away from smacking that smirk right off his fucking face, and if it wasn't so goddamn sexy, I probably would have. Instead, I opted for the higher, more mature route of blatantly ignoring his ass.

And that was when shit got ree-goddamn-diculous.

All day long, Cullen was all over my shit, fucking grinning and charming and flirting like his life depended on it. Which was pretty close to true, considering the numerous torture tactics I had imagined using on him, just for shits and giggles. I refused to be swayed though, and continued to breeze past him all day long, shooting daggers at every porn star smile he had the nerve to send my way.

By lunch time, he was in full-on smooth-operator mode, passing out innuendos like they were candy in his "come hither" voice. And that shit annoyed the fuck out of me. I mean, _now_ he decides to put the moves on me? That motherfucker could have had me bent over the biology table on my first day in this hellhole, and he decides to wait until I'm fucking pissed at him? Who _does_ that?

_Fucking_. _Cullen_.

I had to admit, though, that by the end of the day, he looked pretty damn confused. And it was about fucking time, too - I was sick of being the one sitting in the goddamn dark. It was high time that Cullen got a taste of his own ridiculous shit. But still - there was this look in his eyes that just. . .sat wrong with me. Don't get me wrong - I was thrilled to see him all ass backwards for a change. But there was something else in the way he kept looking at me. . .something I couldn't quite place. And whatever it was, it haunted me all the way home, and stayed with me throughout the evening. Which really pissed me off, because how the hell was I supposed to enjoy my epic victory over Edward Sex-On-Legs Cullen and his infamous sidekick, The Smirk, with that shit bothering me?

I had just resorted to filing my nails in the middle of the night to distract myself from all my damn inner drama when I heard a knock at my window, and looked up to see the infuriating asshole himself, perched in my tree.

Who fucking _does_ that?

I was so shocked that I just sat there for a second, staring at him like a total moron. I had no clue what had possessed him to go all Peter Fucking Pan on me and just show the hell up at my window, but for a moment, I couldn't decide whether I should feel flattered, or really fucking pissed.

And then I decided that I was really fucking pissed.

In all honesty, I was pretty much ready to elbow drop his ass right out of my tree as I approached my window. I sort of hoped that he wouldn't die on impact either, so that I could watch him writhe in pain for a good few minutes. But something about the way he was looking at me, bleeding hands and all, pulled on that dangerous, ridiculous part of my chest again, and for some fucking reason, I let him in. Of course, I regretted that decision about a second later when he was standing there, in the middle of my room, spouting some retarded shit about dopperfuckers and coloring books. I was about to ask him to share whatever the fuck he was high on when he opened that goddamn mouth of his, and inadvertently endangered his own fucking life.

"Quit being pissed off. It's fucking with me."

You know all that shit you see in the movies and read about in books about seeing red and getting tunnel vision and all that? Yeah. That shit _definitely_ happens.

I was fucking _livid_. Actually, fucking livid didn't even _begin_ to describe it. I mean, _I_ was fucking with _him_?

Oh, _hell_ the fuck no.

So I decided there was only one thing I could do - knock the everliving shit out of the bastard, gorgeous face or no. In the back of my mind, I was pretty sure that it was morally wrong to fuck up such a perfect face, but I really couldn't bring myself to care as I curled my fingers into a fist and cocked that shit back.

And I would have done it, too, if the earth hadn't turned on its axis and the ground hadn't shifted and the stars hadn't aligned in whatever order they're supposed to be in for freaky fucking shit to happen.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, out of fucking nowhere.

I couldn't even move. I mean - well, damn straight he was sorry. He _should_ be sorry. It was just that. . .guys like Cullen don't say shit like sorry. Like. . .ever. So, because I'm a damn genius, I asked him, "What did you just say?" You know - just to make sure.

"I said, I'm sorry."

And there it was again. I sort of felt like we had just fallen into some parallel dimension as I continued to stare at him, fucking dumbfounded. And then I noticed the way his hands were up, all defensive and shit, while my arm was still drawn back, mid-fucking-swing. If I wasn't so stunned, I probably would have laughed. But I was still reeling a little bit as I dropped my arm, turning his impossible words over in my mind.

_I'm sorry_. Well. . .yeah. Yeah. Damn straight.

"Yeah, you really are," I grinned, and he finally dropped his hands, looking absolutely relieved, which amused me to no end.

_Fucking_. _Cullen_.

It was amazing how easily we slipped back into our groove as we bantered back and forth for a few minutes, passing insults back and forth while we grinned at each other like fools. It just was so. . .normal. Almost like the drama had never even happened. In addition to that, he just looked so happy that he was almost fucking glowing - which should have been gay as hell, but with him, it was. . .sexy. And then of course, I realized that Cullen was standing in my room, in the middle of the night, looking all happy and sexy. I was just about to take advantage of the situation when he seemed to realize the same thing, and started backing towards the window. I was mildly irritated that, after the way he had just shown up at my window to make peace, he was still playing his fucking game. But I didn't let it bother me too much, because I sure as hell wasn't giving up either.

He left then, and I watched from my window as he seemed to glide through the darkness and to his car, the moon doing things to his hair that should be illegal. When I couldn't see him anymore, I turned around and headed back to bed. On the way, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, and I rolled my eyes at the goofy fucking smile on my face. Still, the fact that Cullen had come to my window like a regular fucking Romeo was pretty hot, all things considered, so I wasn't too harsh on myself. I mean, who seriously _does_ shit like that?

_Fucking_. _Cullen_. That's who.

But as I tossed and turned, trying to go to sleep, I grew agitated all over again. I was such a sucker. It had barely been twenty-four hours since he had dumped my ass like trash for a phone call, and the minute he scales a fucking tree, I'm grinning like a dumbass again. I sighed ruefully and continued to flop in bed, still a little stunned and a whole lot annoyed. My only solace was that Cullen had offered me rides to and from school - which was a major misstep on his part. Because that meant that I would be alone with him, in his car, two times a day, five times a week. The possibilities were endless, considering how close I had come to breaking down his stupid walls the last time we were alone together. Plus, my day with Alice was already set for this Saturday, when - come hell or high water - I was going to try my damnedest to get to the bottom of Cullen's look-but-don't-touch bullshit.

The small comforts soothed me enough that I managed to relax slightly, and I finally fell asleep, still thinking about Fucking. Cullen.

***

I was still a little pissy as I got ready for school the next morning, but that was probably due to the three hours of sleep I had gotten the night before. So to make up for it, I went all out - donning a white shirt with a sexy black vest that threatened to make my tits burst right through it. Some super tight jeans and my Choos completed the ensemble, and I couldn't wipe the smirk off my face as I teased my hair, strategically placing a few strands over one of my eyes to give myself that perfect, just-fuck-me-already look. I blew myself a kiss and wished myself luck before rolling my eyes - it would probably take nothing less than a 2x4 to the head for Cullen to get the point.

_Still_, I thought, _no harm in trying_.

Before heading downstairs, I turned to my dresser and began gathering my cosmetics, staring absentmindedly out my window. After a few moments, my wandering eyes landed on my truck, which was completely dead and rusting in the driveway. I smirked devilishly at it, remembering what a stroke of genius it had been to debilitate the piece of shit, thereby earning myself a plethora of free rides from Cullen and his stupid volvo. I stared at it for a beat longer, considering how such an eyesore could end up having such fantastic uses, when a downright wicked plan sparked in my mind, causing me to laugh out loud before gathering my purse and practically skipping downstairs.

A few minutes and a lame conversation with Charlie later, I heard the purr of the volvo out front, and I walked out the door and sauntered right up to him, confidence plastered all over my sexy ass. As always, I watched Edward's eyes widen for a split second before he turned from me, then kept his eyes glued to the road the whole way to school.

Bella: 1. Cullen: Hard.

Lunch was the same as always, with Emmett and Rose drooling all over each other, and Alice vibrating in her seat over our plans for Saturday. Of course Edward - ever the observant fucker - had shot her a wary look when she had first mentioned it, but she just grinned back, shrugging her shoulders slightly. This seemed to placate him, and I could barely contain my amusement as he turned his attention back to his lunch. He was clearly underestimating me. But a false sense of security would be crucial for Saturday, so I continued to chat animatedly with Alice about our impending "girl time" while smiling sweetly at Edward every time he glanced my way.

_Motherfucking check_.

Once school had finally ended and we were all assembled in the parking lot, I decided it was time to put this morning's plan into action. After all - there was no sense in waiting around for Saturday, and wasting the four days in between. And I may not have spent my youth watching fucking Transformers cartoons, but I sure as hell saw the movie, and I was pretty fucking sure that Cullen would appreciate a replay of one of my favorite scenes, Camaro or no.

I turned my attentions to Jasper, then appreciatively eyed him for a minute, wondering how in the hell he got away with wearing half the shit he did. Okay, more than half. Anyone else who tried that shit would be labeled as a freak. But somehow, Jasper just looked even cooler. What the fuck was that about? He was wearing a frilly swashbuckling shirt like a fucking pirate, for crying out loud! As always, a wide grin spread across my face at the very sight of that goofy, slick motherfucker, and I tried earnestly to contain my giggles as I addressed him.

"Hey, Jas?" I asked, sweet as fucking pie as he passed me the ever-present flask. "Do you think you could come over tomorrow and take a look at my truck?"

Jasper grinned his goofy fucking grin and nodded, even going so far as to peer out at me from underneath his lifted eye patch and wink.

"Course, darlin'," he drawled in that endearing southern accent, "I'll take a look under yer top anytime."

He waggled his eyebrows like a fucking cartoon character, and made an obscene gesture with this sword. Of course he had a sword. Why the fuck wouldn't he have a sword? Because dressing like a fucking pirate without one would be just silly, right?

I beamed at him while Alice laughed at his lame attempts at perversion and clapped her hands, going off about what a doll he was. I barely managed to suppress my eye roll, then turned my head slightly, peering at Edward out of the corner of my eye.

_Yep_.

Just as I had predicted, he was leaning against his car with his arms crossed, fucking pouting like a two-year-old.

"Thanks a lot," I turned back to Jasper, "I know it will be inconvenient and everything for you to have to come out to my house, but I really need someone to look at it. I don't know what I'm doing when it comes to that shit. . ."

"Well, I have to drop you off tomorrow anyway, you fucking vehicular invalid," Edward immediately cut in, and I had to bite my tongue to hide my wicked smirk. "Why don't I just look at the damned truck then?" he offered, trying pretty fucking hard not to whine.

_So predictable_.

I turned to face him then, looking as innocently surprised as possible. "Would you? Oh, that would be really great. . ." I trailed off for a minute before putting the icing right on the fucking cake.

"I didn't know you knew anything about cars?"

I could practically see his ego bursting out his ears as his green eyes flashed at me. "What the fuck kind of insult is that, Swan? Of course I do. I'll fix that shit up for you tomorrow."

And just like that, the deal was sealed. I turned back to Jasper and Alice, ready to relieve him of his mechanic duties, but they were already connected at the tonsils, so I figured it really wasn't necessary. They probably didn't even remember I existed by this point, much less needed help with my ancient truck. So with a wide smile, I nodded at Edward, and we climbed into his car and headed home.

I fiddled with his CD's on the way home, making fun of his taste in music while he smirked and tried to school me on all that is Sinatra. I was actually a big fan, but I decided that Cullen didn't need to know that, and we kept up our banter until he pulled into my driveway.

"Thanks, Cullen," I told him as I leaned over the console to give him a faux-thankful kiss on the cheek. As I did, I made sure my chest brushed against his arm, and I took great pleasure in the way his body froze as I murmured in his ear, "See you tomorrow, douchebag." With one last grin to let him know I was teasing, I hopped out of the car and into the house, smirking and shaking my ass the entire way.

***

When Cullen and I pulled up to my house the next afternoon, everything was ready.

I hopped out of the car immediately, then asked him to wait outside while I changed my clothes, citing fear of oil stains before heading up to my room. I smirked all the way up the stairs, then changed quickly out of my school clothes and into the outfit I had set out early this morning.

Before heading downstairs, I paused in front of the mirror to grin deviously at my ensemble. My jeans were tight as hell, and had strategically placed rips across the knees, on my thighs, and beneath one of my back pockets. My shirt was a simple, white wife beater, which I had tied behind my back, leaving my milky stomach exposed. It was the perfect, gloriously grungy look, and I could barely contain my excitement as I tossed my hair and shimmied my way out of the house and down the driveway, where Cullen was waiting for me. I smiled as soon as I saw him, leaning against my truck with his arms crossed over his chest, staring complacently into space. As I grew closer, the sound of my footsteps against the concrete seemed to break him out of his daze, and he turned to me immediately, then froze in place.

I smiled innocently, watching with delight as his eyes swept up, down, then back up my body before landing square on my tits, attempting to burn a hole straight through my shirt. I chuckled softly to myself and had to resist the urge to flash him as I passed, rounding purposely toward the hood of my truck before turning to him.

"I don't really know what happened," I told him as I lifted the hood. "I was thinking it had to do with something right here. . ."

As I spoke, I propped the hood up, then leaned over the engine, giving him a fantastic view of my ass as I pointed to some random shit in the back. Of course, Cullen's eyes remained firmly glued to my bent over frame as I spoke, and I had to bite my lip to try and hide my amusement.

_Thank you, Transformers, and you too, Michael Bay. I don't care if Cullen thinks you screwed up the yellow car, because bending Megan Fox over a Camaro was fucking genius_.

"What do you think?" I asked pointedly after a few minutes, and Cullen shifted his eyes back to my face, obviously lost on anything I had just said.

"It looks good," he shrugged, then added "your spark plugs, I mean. Let me look beneath the belt."

Giggles threatened to escape me as he winced at his wording, then turned deliberately towards the engine for the first time.

As he poked and prodded at the miscellaneous shit in there, I stayed close beside him, humming and sighing as I pretended to be interested in his work. Of course I wasn't - I knew exactly what was wrong with that piece of shit. But Cullen sure as hell didn't need to know about my automotive assault a few days before.

As he worked, I continued to move closer to him, until my hips were touching his and our arms were stretched out side-by-side.

"What about this?" I asked as my hand grazed over his, and I watched as his jaw clenched for a moment.

"Don't touch that Bella," he said without looking at me. I let out a fake sigh as I leaned my head on his shoulder.

"You never let me play with any of the fun stuff."

"That's the battery, Bella," he said without looking at me. "And it's fucking fine."

"I don't know anything about this shit," I huffed, "Why don't I just let you look while I grab you a beer?"

Edward grinned and looked at me, then immediately snapped his eyes back to the engine, nodding instead. I nodded back and sashayed away again, grinning as I felt his eyes on my ass the entire way.

As I opened the fridge and plucked out a beer, I leaned against the counter for a moment, contemplating everything I had just learned. Of course, I had set this whole thing up to fuck with Cullen, but beyond that, it was also for research purposes. Just like I had guessed, Cullen had been unable to keep his eyes off of me. No surprise there. But what was interesting was the way he forced himself to look away every time, as if he was afraid he was going to get caught. What the hell was up with _that_? No one was anywhere fucking _near_ us. I supposed that my being the Chief's daughter might make some guys a little jumpy, especially in a tiny town like this. But I just didn't think that was it - I mean, Edward Jack-By-The-Flask Cullen didn't exactly strike me as the type of guy to be afraid of a little thing like the law.

After a few minutes of consideration, I gave up trying to figure that shit out, and decided to take the clue for what it was: proof that Cullen's game had another player - whose identity was still unknown to me.

I filed that shit away and headed outside, smiling again as I walked up to Edward's side.

"Here, Cullen," I interrupted his engine groping, grinning coyly as I held the beer in front me. He ducked from underneath the hood and looked at me, keeping his eyes glued to mine, purposely avoiding anything below my neck. I smiled sweetly and held his gaze as I lifted the beer to my chest, then slipped my hand under my shirt and used the material to unscrew the cap, exposing some low tit cleavage in the process.

To his credit, he put up a valiant fight - but in the end, his hormones seemed to win out as he dropped his gaze to my chest and his awaiting beer. He stared for a few seconds, and I smirked widely as I handed it over, extremely fucking satisfied. I had to bite back a snicker as I watched him literally tear his eyes away from my chest to gulp down the beer like it was the fucking fountain of youth, then bent myself over the hood again, looking at him from over my shoulder.

"So what's the deal, Cullen?" I asked as I smirked sideways at him, hoping he'd pick up on the fact that I wasn't just talking about my truck.

He glanced back at me, then my ass, then back at me again before answering.

"Your truck is fucked. Some wires are split clean the fuck through, and that shit isn't good." He grinned before adding, "It would cost more to fix the shit than you could sell this fucking hellbeast for, anyway. You should probably think about making a sound financial investment. You know. Like one that doesn't remember what primordial ooze looks like."

I let my jaw hang open in mock outrage, then stood and shoved him playfully.

"Fuck you, Cullen. This "beast" is a classic. Much better than some wimpy fucking _volvo_," I smirked, stroking my hand lightly against my truck's front fender. Cullen rolled his eyes and flashed me a wry smile - he knew I hated the piece of shit - but I ignored it as I plopped down on the bumper, letting my head fall back in false frustration, which pushed my rack out slightly. I didn't have to see him to know he was staring right at them, and I took a deep breath, popping my tits out further before exhaling slowly.

"Oh well, I'm sure Alice will be happy to drive us on Saturday," I sighed, keeping my eyes closed and my head back.

"Yeah," he paused, collecting himself, and I bit my lip to keep from laughing, "Well … why the fuck are you going, anyway? You went to PA last weekend. What in the blue hell could you possibly need to shop for now? Stop feeding the addiction, Swan, or I'll stage a fucking intervention."

I laughed lightly at his confused tone, making the girls bounce before I answered him."I'm a girl, Cullen. It's an illness we all share. Haven't you noticed? I could shop all day, every day," I smirked. "But thanks anyway, Dr. Phil, because that's not what we'll be doing."

"Oh?" he asked, frustration apparent in his voice, and I grinned before picking my head back up and looking straight at him. "Supplying some other addiction, are we? Listen, I'll be here, so you might wanna stick around to get your daily dose of Cullen," he teased arrogantly, flexing his chest with bravado.

I successfully stifled the laugh and accompanying grin at this self-centeredness. Did it ever fucking end? "The fuck do you care, anyway?" I asked as I quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I don't, Little Miss Narcissus," he cut in quickly, and I grinned as he rolled his eyes. "I meant, childhood rapist, and don't think I forgot about that, that Alice is fucking insane behind the wheel. She drives like shit. Worse than shit. She drives like _you_," he grinned before continuing, "If you wanted me to, I could give you a ride. It's not like I don't chaffeur your pedestrian ass all over the place, anyway," he teased. "Besides, if you die a grisly death and get scraped off the freeway, who's gonna protect the goods from the scourge of Ihop whores everywhere? Me? Fucking puh-shaw."

Aww. His offer was almost sweet, and a genuine smile flashed across my face before I carefully concealed it with my signature, saucy smirk.

"Thanks, peach," I simpered as I rose, then patted his cheek gently, "but Saturday is just the girls. Unless of course, you want your hair braided. I bet I could get some ribbons in there and everything," I snickered as I lifted my hand to his hair. He immediately ducked away from me, and I laughed at the scowl he shot me.

"Well," I sighed as I stepped back from him, "I should probably get inside. The Chief will be home soon." I watched him carefully for any signs of nervousness, but there were none as he shrugged at me and closed the truck's hood.

"See ya tomorrow morning?" I asked, and he nodded as he wiped his hands on his jeans.

"Thanks again for your services," I winked, and he smirked at me before turning and sauntering nonchalantly down the driveway, hands in his pockets. I waved to him as he raced down the street, then shook my head to myself before heading inside.

_Well_, I reasoned with myself, _at least I know that the scary Chief of Forks had nothing to do with it_.

I snorted and rolled my eyes, then hiked up to my room. All in all, the afternoon had been a complete success. Not only was I pretty fucking sure that some poor, innocent bottle of lotion out there was about to be defiled after the views I'd handed Cullen all afternoon, but I was now equally sure that there was an additional factor behind his cockblocking quest. He was definitely acting as though he didn't want someone to know he was attracted to me. But which someone? Or was it more than one? There was just no way to know. . .yet.

Saturday couldn't come fast enough.

***

Thursday and Friday went by the same way they always do with everyone going about their business as they always did. Emmett and Rose were horny - because although they were both interesting people, together they were mid-coitus magnets. Seriously, it's like once they got within eyeshot of each other, their brains stopped processing rational thought. Alice and Jasper put out excessive amounts of PDA, all while Jasper swashed and buckled and paraded around his ridiculousness. It's like it increased exponentially every fucking day. I was sure he was almost normal when I got here. Strike that. He had _looked_ almost normal. But if there were two words that never had any fucking business near each other, they were "Jasper" and "normal". And while all of this was going on, Cullen kept playing the game. The only difference was the WAY he played it.

Ever since his Monday night excursion up my tree, Cullen had loosened up a bit. He no longer avoided me - if anything, he seemed to actually enjoy my presence. He no longer ignored me in biology, and would actually clear the space next to him, so that he could spend the hour teaching me to roll cigarettes beneath our desk, occasionally flicking tobacco into some random bitch's hair. And that shit was funny, too. He sat next to me at the lunch table now as well, without appearing to even think about it, and we'd spend the time snickering and laughing some more - usually at Jessica Stanley's pathetic attempts to straighten her cranial brillo pad. Which, by the way, made that shit look even more disastrous, if that were even fucking possible.

What really surprised me was how much I was beginning to enjoy our rides to and from school. Apparently, leather seats contain a substance that suck the bullshit right out of cocky bastards, because those short car rides were quickly turning into the highlights of my day. We were always laughing and teasing each other on the way to school; and on the way home, we'd snicker some more about whatever lame shit had happened during the day. It was as if all that shiny, silver tint blocked the world out, allowing us to cut the bullshit for a minute and just. . .be.

Once the bell finally rang on Friday afternoon, I was feeling exceptionally fucking perky. Chalking it up to the school week being over, I whipped out my iPod, shoved one earbud in my ear, and walked as swiftly as possible towards the shiny fucking Volvo that I knew would be awaiting me. I couldn't help bobbing my head slightly as Rihanna started blaring through my earpiece, and my grin was ridiculously wide as I began singing along to myself.

"_It's getting late, I'm makin my way over to my favorite place_. . ."

I put an extra bit of bounce in my step as I approached the car, still singing softly as I approached the Volvo and opened the door.

"_Please don't stop the music_. . ." I lilted loudly as I ducked into the car and turned to smile at Cullen, who was waiting for me in the driver's seat.

At that moment, Edward jerked his head so fast towards me that I jumped back, and almost bailed out of the fucking car altogether.

His eyes were wide and his nostrils flared as he narrowed his eyes and demanded seriously, "What music?"

I blinked in disbelief at his sever expression before answering indignantly, "Uh, Rihanna, asshole. What the hell do you think?"

He continued to stare seriously for a minute, until I pointed meaningfully to my iPod, staring back at him like he had webbed feet and two dicks.

I watched as the muscles in his shoulders relaxed slightly before he seemed to come back to himself. A second later he flippantly replied, "That shit's gay," before throwing the Volvo into reverse and peeling out of the parking lot.

I sat there for a few moments, staring at his face, utterly fucking stunned. What the fuck was _that_ about?

"What's up your ass, Cullen?" I demanded, shooting him a scathing glare.

"Nothing, Swan," he shot back without turning towards me. "I just thought. . .I didn't know what the fuck you had said is all. You sing like shit."

I snorted and rolled my eyes, then relaxed into the seat before adding, "A fetish for Transformers and a fear of pop music? I swear to God, Cullen, you're a fucking disaster."

"At least I don't run around singing like I'm stuck in a goddamn musical. That shit's just disturbing," he quipped, then began screeching at the top of his lungs, mimicking me like a fucking asshole, effeminate dance moves and all, as I giggled and pretended to be insulted. The rest of the ride went smoothly, and once we reached my house, I had long since forgotten his bizarre reaction. After another quick kiss, I hopped out, and waved at him as he sped down the street, half-sad that I wouldn't see him the next morning, but _extremely_ ready to start what I was sure would be my weekend of goddamn reckoning.

Which brought me to Saturday morning. _Finally_.

I heard Alice's Porsche roll up at about quarter to ten, and I smiled to myself as I applied a last layer of lipgloss before hauling ass out the door. I was actually ridiculously excited for our day to begin - mostly so that I could finally pump Alice for information, but also because I genuinely liked her. She was a goddamn handful, but that actually made very little effort required on my part, which was just fucking fine with me. So, with a brilliant smile, I headed out the front door and strolled up to her car.

"Hey baby," I teased, "I'll flash you my tits for a ride."

Alice giggled before responding, "Thanks but no thanks, Yayas von Tatas. Now get in the car! Let's go!"

I rolled my eyes as the vibrating started, but hopped in anyway, just as anxious to get this bitch started as she was. She peeled out immediately, and I blasted the music as we shot onto the freeway towards Port Angeles. Alice talked the whole time about anything and everything - although she usually ended up circling right back to her and Jasper. It was almost cute how much she loved that drunk fucker - in a disgusting, vomit-inducing sort of way. Of course, once she started talking about their after-hour antics, I cut that shit off, pleading a major case of TMI before channeling the entire conversation down a different avenue.

"So, Cullen came and looked at my truck on Wednesday. It's shot to hell."

"Aww that's too bad," she thought for a moment, "You know, Rose loves cars. I bet she could help you pick out a new one. The other day, she was talking to me about those Audi A6s -"

"Actually," I interrupted with the quickness, "it seems a new car isn't necessary. Cullen offered to give me rides, and I'm pretty sure that offer extends to the end of the year."

I watched her carefully to gauge her reaction, and was awarded with a quick flash of her eyes and a twitch of her lips.

"Well, that was sweet of him," she offered thoughtfully. She smirked to herself before adding, "He's really a sweet guy. One time, in 8th grade, I. . ."

Yeah, I was sure he was a regular fucking gumdrop.

I let her ramble off as she steered the conversation deliberately back to Jasper while I turned her reaction over again and again in my mind. It wasn't exactly unusual for girls to be interested in each others' lives and whatnot, but I was pretty damn sure that the amusement in her eyes was _not_ normal. Could Alice have something to do with whatever it was that kept Cullen's cock under lock and key?

_Possibly_, I figured. But there was no telling just yet.

A while and an insane amount of hilarious Drunksper stories later, I saw the turn-off to Port Angeles, and grinned widely.

"Hey, Alice?" I cut off her lovesick chattering, "You'll need to make a left up here."

Her brows furrowed for a second before she replied, "But the hair salon is to the right. I thought we could get our hair done - I was thinking about adding some pink streaks -"

"Honey," I soothed, "I'm sure that would look fanfuckingtastic. But I'm in serious need of a drink. What do you say? A few margaritas to toast our Girls Day?"

That got her. She bounced in her seat and floored it immediately, forcing the Porsche to squeal in protest around the corner before we were flying down the street. I signaled her to stop about midway down, and she did so immediately, pulling up against the curb and yanking the keys out of the ignition.

"Oh my God! I love margaritas! Strawberry is my favorite, what's yours? Oooh I think I'll get mine on the rocks - no wait, you know what? I think I'll just -" she paused for a moment as a look of confusion crossed her face, then she turned to me indignantly.

"Bella!" she scolded, "We're not 21! We can't even get into the bar! Oh my God I can't believe you even forgot that -"

I held up a hand, silencing her rambling as I smirked at her.

"I know that, Alice. However, there's one, very important factor that you are completely overlooking."

She crossed her arms across her chest and quirked an eyebrow questioningly as I continued.

"On your average Friday night, I would say that you are exactly fucking right. However, the time is now 11:00 in the morning, on a Saturday. The bar just opened, and that guy," I nodded meaningfully towards the entrance where a lanky, pimply-faced shithead was standing at the door, looking bored, "is the bouncer."

Alice's face lit up as she looked at him. He could barely pass for 21, and what he was doing as a bouncer, only God fucking knew. Wearing matching grins, we both stepped out of the yellow Porsche, tossing our hair dramatically before starting toward the bar. It took a few minutes, but the second the bouncer became aware of our impending presence, his head shot up as his eyes widened with disbelief.

_Yep. Bella Fucking Swan, bitch. Oh, and meet Alice_.

Donning our best flirty smiles and bedroom eyes, we winked at him as we passed, then had to bite our lips as we entered the bar, trying to supress our amused giggles. The poor guy's jaw stayed pretty fucking close to the ground as we passed, and we both shot him a cheeky, one-finger wave before sitting.

"Two strawberry margaritas, please," I nodded to the bartender as we sat, scoping the view. The place was pretty dead, which was fucking perfect. Nothing encouraged over-drinking like a little bit of privacy.

"I'd hate to be that guys jean's right now," Alice giggled as she jerked her head towards the bouncer, who was currently wiping the drool off his chin.

"I know, right?" I snickered back before adding, "Houston, we have a problem. We are _not_ clear for liftoff."

We snickered for a second as our margaritas arrived and Alice began chattering away about Jasper again. I continued to appease her by listening to her ramblings about all that is Jasper on Jack as we slurped down our margaritas and ordered another round. I kind of knew it was wrong - lighting Alice up for informational purposes and all. But I really fucking had to know what was going on, and I had passed the point of giving a shit about four days ago.

On the plus side, I learned that my favorite alcoholic had a penchant for vlogging, which created an entirely new plethora of hilarious possibilities, because given Jasper's flare for the dramatic and philosophical profundity on a daily basis – given a camera, he could be a force of nature. I was willing to bet he had an entire cult of worshippers devoted to him somewhere on the interweb – Drunksper inspired such devotion, God knew why. Also, he really fucking liked pickles.

_Who fucking knew_?

A dozen margaritas later, Alice was giggling maniacally while she asked the bartender if it was, in fact, fun to be a bartender. Never one to miss an opportunity, I made my move as soon as the poor guy extracted himself from Alice's chattering grasp, barely managing to escape with a promise to return with our next round.

"So, Alice," I started, and she turned to me with a smile a mile wide, "What the fuck's up with Cullen? I've seen ice cubes less frigid than he is."

I watched as her face froze, and I could practically see the lock turn in her lips as she replied, "I don't know what you mean."

I waited for a few moments, but to my utter fucking surprise, she said _nothing_.

"I just mean that, for the resident stud or whatnot, he does a damn good job of keeping that shit on lockdown," I pressed, fucking astounded by her sudden silence.

"Well, Edward is. . .like that," she finished lamely before busying herself by gulping down the rest of her margarita.

_No_. _Fucking_. _Way_.

I watched, fucking stunned, as she chugged the rest of her drink, put it on the counter, and remained stoically silent, examining her nails like they were the most interesting fucking things she'd ever seen.

Was she _serious_? I'd seen crackheads talk less than this chick - and _now_ she decided to clam the fuck up?

I blinked a few times at her, then turned back to my own drink, chugging it with the quickness and fighting my goddamn rage at Alice's refusal to tell me shit. Drinks or not, she had caught on to me, and had made it pretty fucking clear that she wasn't telling.

_Godfuckingdamnit_.

After a few minutes, I managed to calm my ass down, reminding myself that I had at least come up with yet another piece to the bullshit puzzle.

Alice knew what the fuck was up. The fact that she refused to indulge me was actually pretty intriguing, if you looked at it in the right light. Alice, I had learned, was nothing if not fiercely loyal, which led me to assume that this shit was not hers to tell. Which of course, made me wonder just how the fuck many other people were behind the scenes on this bullshit.

_Fuck_.

I let out a sigh as I shook my head ruefully. I could hardly be mad at Alice – it would be pretty fucked up of me to start a fight over something that I was pretty sure she couldn't help. So I turned back to her then, smiling easily as I asked, "I guess you're pretty much used to it by now, huh? You've known him for years, after all. Who knew Cullen had such fickle tendencies?"

Alice grinned the most relieved, fucking happy grin I've ever seen before answering, immediately cutting in to some ridiculous story that was really fucking unnecessary. But her giddy rambling killed the tension, so I leaned back in my seat and let her continue as I cut the tab and grabbed her keys from her purse. After all – there was no fucking way I was letting the little smidget drive. In my quest for information, I'd made sure to imbibe less copiously than Alice.

And let's be real for a moment – she drove like a bat out of hell _normally_. There was no way I was letting her toasted pixie ass behind the wheel.

So with another sly smirk at the bouncer and his salting jeans, we sashayed out of the bar and jumped into the car.

"Where to?" I asked as I shifted gears and pulled out smoothly, heading towards the freeway.

"Edward's," she sighed dreamily, and I turned to cock a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Cullen's?" I asked.

"Yeah," she breathed, "Jazz said he was going there today. Something about Edward's third-story bedroom and aerodynamics."

I snorted but nodded as I merged, then kicked on some music as we sailed down the freeway. Conversation was light and easy on the way home, and before I knew it, we were pulling up to Cullen's driveway. I cut the engine and turned to her, my arm outstretched to relinquish her keys, but she was nowhere to be found. I gawked out the windshield as a black, spikey flash whizzed up the driveway, heading straight towards the front door. As if he had some super, spidey senses, the door suddenly flung open, and there stood Jasper - in red underpants, yellow galoshes, donning a fucking Superman cape and clutching the largest umbrella I had ever seen - with his arms sprawled wide. A second later, the whir of black and Superman collided, and they disappeared in a tangle of limbs into Cullen's foyer.

I giggled and rolled my eyes as I stepped out of the car, then pocketed her keys, shrugging to myself.

_Looks like she won't be needing these anytime soon._

I grinned as I strolled into the house, turning a blind eye to the mass of red, yellow and black that was rolling around on the sofa, and trekked up the stairs, heading straight to Edward's room. But when I opened the door, I stopped at the threshold, gazing questioningly at Edward - who was bent over with a dustpan and broom on hand, sweeping up various pieces of what looked like plastic and drywall. I snorted in disbelief, and he immediately straightened, meeting my curious gaze with an amused one of his own.

"Jasper was flying again. Don't ask."

A burst of giggles escaped me as I nodded my head, then stepped into his room and sat down on his couch. I kept grinning as Edward discarded the remnants of Jasper's most recent escapade, waiting patiently for him to finish. Once he was done, he heaved a deep, amused sigh, then turned back to me.

"How was Port Angeles?" he asked disinterestedly as he moved about the room, uprighting various overturned pictures and books.

"It was fine," I shrugged. "And I decided that strawberry margaritas are worth their weight in Tequila, once you get a few deep," I grinned, making Cullen cock an interested eyebrow.

"Although I do find jailbait simply delectable, I find that it leaves me wondering how the fuck you managed to come to that conclusion today," he grinned, and I rolled my eyes before answering.

"With these," I smirked as I shimmied my tits his way. He watched for a beat longer than necessary, then looked away, rolling his eyes in the process.

"Well then, what are your plans for the rest of this fine evening, you juvenile delinquent?"

I snickered before replying. "Seeing how it is a Saturday night, I'm trying to get my drink on - but I'm due back at Charlie's pretty fucking soon here." I fake pouted as Cullen turned around, slightly intrigued.

"Care to join me for a few beverages? Oh, say, my room? Midnight?" I smirked.

That cocky grin twitched up those perfect lips for a second before he raised an eyebrow at me, asking, "And here I thought you were smarter than the av-er-age bear, Swan. How the fuck do you propose we make that happen, Cinderella?"

My grin turned devious as I stood and strode towards him confidently, pausing to run my fingers lightly down his arm."I'm sure you'll figure it out, Tarzan," I winked, then turned and left, fighting back giggles as I left him in a stunned stupor. I sauntered my way down the stairs, still grinning deviously, and saw that Alice was ready and waiting for me at the front door. Aside from her slightly crooked shirt and some serious fucking sex hair, she looked no worse for the wear. I snickered and shot Jasper a wave, who was riding the arm of the couch and attempting to lasso Alice from there, before following her out the door.

As we sped down the back roads toward my house, I had to bite my tongue in an effort to keep my amused giggles at bay. Just because I didn't break Alice didn't mean Cullen was off the hook - I wasn't anywhere near done. Sure, Alice looked to be the easiest target, but Emmett and Rose would be just as pliable, once I exerted the right amount of pressure.

Plus, Edward Fucking Cullen would be on his way to my house by the stroke of midnight. _Pumpkin that, asshole_.

And just like that, I was a regular goddamn genius again, and Cullen was in serious fucking trouble.

_God I love my boobs._

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**I, for one, can not WAIT to see what happens when our little piece of pervert perfection arrives at midnight. Tell me what you loved the most, and I might just make it happen. ;)**

**DONT FORGET - voting for the Eddies & Bellies is open till March 4th, and Place Your Bets is nominated for Best Collab! Link is on my profile... won't you vote? For Drunksper?**


	11. Big Slick

**Neither Katie nor I own Twilight. However, we do come up with some pretty awesome shit, hence the following:**

**A/N: I don't know how to say this concisely or clearly, so I'll just say it. I'm really tired of people stealing from this story. That's why this update took so long. Seeing your story ripped off in about 10 different new stories is really heartbreaking, especially when half the authors have this story favorited. How unsubtle is that? Nothing is more creativity-sapping than the theft of your work. So if you hated how long this chapter took, open your eyes and call out authors that are stealing . . . it'll get you updates faster. **

**That being said, glad you love my work enough to steal it, girls. Classy. It's not awesome – and let's be real here, it just looks stupid when you try to jock someone else's style – so chill the fuck out with the thievery, gals. While flattering, it's kind repetitive seeing my own shit over and over. So even if you're stealing specific lines (which you are) or general styles (which you are, as well) I really don't want to have to name names, so consider this your warning and quit stealing – your regurgitated versions of mangled theft aren't fooling anyone. Yes, you. Stop it.**

**Thank you as always to my loves, my wife Katie and all my PYB Beatdown Bitches!**

**PS: _Edward Motherfucking-Invented-the-Goddamn-Hyphenated-Middle-Names Cullen says you saw it here first. Stop stealing!_**

**NC-17 for a reason. Profanity and smut ahoy, bitches!**

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EPOV

When I woke up Saturday morning, I wondered how in the fuck it had come to this. Another Saturday morning, lying in my fucking bed, staring at my morning wood, and thinking about Bella, and how she was simultaneously the best and worst parts of my life. Fucking Bella.

I was nervous as fuck about her going to Port Angeles with Alice. What could they possibly be doing? What in the blue hell were they up to? Shenanigans? Fuckery? Tomfoolery? Either way – nothing good would come of this shit. It was impossible. It would end horribly. Alice would spill the beans. They'd find themselves being filmed in a debaucherous orgy for a _Jailbait Gone Wild!_ movie advertised on late night cable. They would get arrested, end up in a Mexican jail, and I'd have to go to Tijuana to bail them out, but that wouldn't be so bad, because then at least I could always accomplish my goal of banging a genuine Tijuana prostitute while watching a cockfight and snorting coke off her tits. Oh, the American Dream: Hookers and blow.

Oh fuck. There were drug cartels running amok in Mexico, martial law and people being taken hostage for ransom and fucking dying all willy-nilly and shit. And fuck _that, _because I am far too pretty to go unnoticed by Mexican drug runners with an illegal dope war to fund. I'll be fucking _Columbian_ hookers and snorting _their_ blow, please and thank you.

I wondered what they were doing at that exact moment, hoping to god Bella wasn't being all fucking wily and using her voodoo all over poor defenseless Alice. I knew that shit was just about impossible to resist, and as evidenced by a wardrobe that cost enough to fund a few small third world countries for the next decade, Alice didn't possess even a fraction of my super willpower of doom. If Bella were to get anything out of her about the bet, we'd all be fucked royally. She'd turn fucking green and start tearing off her clothes, which you'd think wouldn't be so bad (and hey – I'm with that. I can get down with some green tits) but then she'd start screaming "BELLA SMASH!" and wreck the fucking Volvo anyway, just to spite me. And there's a decent chance she'd eat my liver. That was the kind of shit that pissed off Bella would do and really, as hot as she was, I didn't think even her awesome fucking rack would be enough to pull off one of those creepy Hannibal Lecter masks. Being a complete genius and apt individual, it had occurred to me that maybe . . . just _maybe, _Bella wasn't the kind of girl who would take kindly to being denied something for any reason, much less one like a _bet_. And she surely didn't appreciate the awesome of the Volvo, so she'd be even more pissed. I had pissed her off _royally_ before, but I was sure that her finding out about the bet would send her orbiting into a galaxy of rage she'd never even been in before. The earth would shudder and tremble and god dammit, call me a pussy if you will, but I wasn't willing to be the one that wrath was directed at.

Fuck. Why the hell did thinking about enraged Bella make my dick even harder? That was a fairly surefire sign that there was something fucking wrong with me. Who gets rocked up over batshit nuts broads in cannibalism prevention headgear? Granted, I didn't want her to beat me or break out the nipple clamps or anything, but there was just something about the way her eyes got all flashy and wide and she started breathing even faster, and how her chest would start to rise and fall violently and send those perkily gorgeous tits a-dancing. Fuck Icecapades, give me dancing Bella tits any day. I bet she could charge admission for that shit, too. I'd pay it. She could paint little faces on them and everything, maybe even glue on some of those crazy googly eyes and–

_Oh hell._

If I wasn't mistaken in my half-asleep haze – and I didn't think I was – it sounded like giant Jasper feet clomping up the stairs. He seemed to be wearing shoes. Two of them. And even the same ones, from the sound of it. Ruh-roh. _This will not end well. _

I hoped he'd see something shiny on the wall and stop to play with it, or maybe he'd get distracted passing an open window and go sailing right the fuck out of it . . . because that's Jasper. I flopped backward and threw an arm over my face and squeezed my eyes shut.

I was just dozing back off into dreamy land where Bella and I were sliding around, stripped down and greased up – fuck you, don't judge me – when the door flew open a la Jasper. It banged loudly into the wall, crushing that little springy doorstopper thing (what the fuck good is that thing anyway?). I only peeked out from behind my eyes long enough to see him sailing through the air, swan style, with a fucking megaphone in his hand, screaming through it wildly, "TOOT TOOT MOTHERFUCKER!"

I felt his weight plummet into my mattress and covered my head protectively, trying to stop the fucking ringing. I was _sure_ my brain had to be leaking out of my ears at that point, liquefied by the sheer volume so close to my head.

"WHAT IN THE HOLY MOTHERFUCK WAS THAT, JASPER?" I screamed to be heard over the ringing in my ears. _Dear god in Heaven, make it STOP!_

I thought I might have heard him chuckle, but I couldn't really tell because _son of a bitch! _did my brain hurt. It was quiet for a minute before I asked from behind my forearm, too afraid to peak out, "What in the everloving shit was that?"

That time, I clearly heard the Jasper chuckle and peered out from the crevice of my elbow to see him clearly. Oh sweet, sweaty Jesus. What the fuck was he wearing?

"Good god, Jasper. Is that a fucking Captain's hat? Why?"

I didn't even have time to react before he had the fucking megaphone back in my face, hollering through it, "I'M ON A BOAT, MOTHERFUCKER!"

I lost my shit. I mean it, I fucking lost it. I was more sexually frustrated than I had ever been in my life, I had just lost my morning wood because the blood needed to sustain it was leaking out of my fucking ears, my delicious little bubble-assed Bambi was off cavorting and gallivanting with Big Mouth von Can'tShutTheFuckUp, Emmett would turn my precious Volvo into a fucking douche canoe, and Jasper was in my bed dressed like Mr. fucking Howell from Gilligan's Island, and I just flipped my shit.

I launched myself at him.

Right at his fucking face, I just went flying. The megaphone sailed off somewhere and landed with a thud, high pitched feedback echoing while we wrestled. We grunted and strained and cursed and I'm pretty sure Jasper called me a "sumbitchin' Benedict" somewhere in there.

Jasper was sitting on my chest and I was attempting to choke him while struggling to breathe myself when I caught a handful of something silky and goofy at his throat. I stopped trying to asphyxiate my best friend and cocked my head sideways as I looked up at him.

"Jasper. Are you wearing a fucking ascot? What _is_ that?"

He didn't even grin at me. It was more of a disdainful eye roll. "It's a nautical themed pashmina afghan, you fucking Philistine."

"Oh," I breathed heavily, still fighting for air. But I still couldn't let that fucker get the last word, so I said, "So will you be turning in your man card now, or after you go shopping for man-panties?"

It wasn't until he had me ensnared solidly in one helluva headlock and my fist was planted in his gut that I noticed the shoes.

I heaved another good one, right in his belly, as I asked "What's the deal with the loafers, you ass pirate?"

He tightened his grip and I saw fucking purple while he yanked and pulled wildly and grunted with the effort, "That's _Captain _Ass Pirate to you, first mate douche bag!"

I was fully convinced that I'd lose, and Jasper would walk away with my head as a lovely parting gift - which was a fucking shame, because he'd get blood on his ridiculous Captain's pants . . . well, that and hi, I'm entirely too pretty to be nothing but a mangled decapitated torso – but was miraculously saved when he pulled a typical fucking Jasper and stumbled backward, careening wildly while I slipped out of his grasp.

He flung his arms about and stumbled over his own feet and it was a good thing the wall stopped his momentum, because his impaired balance surely wouldn't have done it. He'd have gone on stumbling and flying clear the fuck into the next state, and God knows potato farmers could not fucking handle Jasper. He'd end up taking the fuck over Idaho and become their king or some shit and start exporting Mr. Potato Heads instead of actual potatoes, just for the hilarity factor, thereby causing some sort of global famine. And probably wear one of those Mr. Potato Head hats and goofy mustaches for street-cred. Only fucking Jasper.

We were both panting wildly, and Jasper rested his hands on his knees while he eyed me distrustfully from underneath his sweaty mop of hair, blood trickling from his fat lip.

I struggled to fill my lungs all the way and squinted at him when I felt blood dribble out of my nose. I stemmed it with my hand and tried to measure up whether or not another attack was imminent. I'd really need to reconsider my strategy this time, because clearly he wasn't as impaired as I had believed –

"I love this fucking pashmina," he choked out between pants as he narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously.

"I love my fucking face," I said because fuck – who could blame me?

He breathed a sigh of relief as he straightened and tested his bleeding lip with his tongue. "Deal. Truce. Sold. Good. Like that."

He launched himself easily off the wall and I breathed deeply as I went to shake his hand, still a little suspicious because really, it's fucking Jasper.

We shook briefly as I asked, "But . . . we're still men though, right?"

Jasper cracked a grin and winced a little as fresh blood leaked from the split in his lip. "Fuckin' right son. Manly men. Let's go kill somethin' and eat it."

"Jasper," I cautioned. "We just established how much you don't want blood on your fucking pashawhosit.

He stopped and cocked his head as he considered that, then straightened and brightened considerably and said "Chinese takeout, motherfucker. Same shit. Manly men," clearly relieved.

I was partial to that idea, because I mean, a little Chinese guy bringing delicious MSG-laden yum-yums to my door probably wasn't the most rugged shit I could have ever done, but considering the fact that I was entirely too fucking pretty to go gallivanting around the woods looking for fucking moose or – wait. What the fuck is the plural of moose? Is it mooses? Mice? No, fuck, it can't be mice. Meese? Fuck, that makes sense. Goose, geese . . . Moose, meese. Right? Gotta be meese. I was definitely too pretty to go looking for meese to eat, because they have big fucking antlers, and if there is one fucking thing I was sure of, it was that a fucking meese (or is it moose now?) antler to the junk would definitely not be the most enjoyable experience of my life.

On the way out the door, I paused and considered showering. I probably smelled funny. As I stopped to lift up my arms and take a whiff, Jasper yelled through the megaphone while sliding down the banister, "And take a fuckin' shower! Yer hair looks stupid, and you have to be ready to leave port at oh nine hundred hours, fuckface!"

***

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After three ridiculous costume changes, four hours of drunken Monopoly with Jasper – and if you ever have the opportunity for that, fucking pass, because that motherfucker hides hotels down his fucking pants and palms pink fifties when you're not looking – two broken windows, and one poor Chinese food delivery guy, accosted by a sword-wielding Jasper who yelled, "Give up the booty, you scurvy bitchface" through a fucking megaphone, and I was god damn exhausted by early afternoon.

By the time he had spent two hours convincing me that I was wrong about his ability to fly, I was devoid of two Waterford shot glasses, three picture frames, and a floor lamp.

Fortunately, I had managed to trick Jasper into the hall closet by promising him there was most assuredly a pair of yellow boots hidden in there somewhere. I hadn't expected it to last more than two minutes, but he'd been in there for an hour and it was oddly quiet. He was either dead or passed out. I refused to consider any other possibilities.

I had just broken out the dustpan and was cleaning up the evidence of Jasper's most recent fuckery when Bella burst through my door, looking remarkably like a Girl that had yet to Go Wild, which forced me into the astounding position of being both relieved and disappointed at the same time. It was a cosmic oddity. I didn't understand it.

I was actually becoming angry at the prospect of her slutting it up in front of a camera because it wouldn't be my camera and it wouldn't have been in my bed when she quirked up one of those cute little archy eyebrows (how the fuck did girls _do that?) _and then I remembered I was holding a fucking dustpan, all Donna Reed style.

As concisely and ruggedly manly as I could, I quickly explained Jasper's latest fuckery and cut her off before she had a chance to ask. Mentioning Jasper and "flying" in the same sentence should have explained everything. Well, except for why he wasn't all mangled and dead, because if I were an innocent bystander, that would have been my first question. I didn't understand how he remained upright as much as he did anyway, and that was without attempted aerodynamics.

She was all cute and fucking giggly and charming and her eyes were kind of dancing and I was getting pissed at myself for joining the fucking Rainbow Parade when she plopped her delectable ass onto my leather couch. I was considering all the different ways I could ravage her on that single piece of furniture and had just come up with something most likely illegal but excessively delicious when she smirked and I remembered just why the fuck I had been so anxious all day.

I walked around picking up overturned shit and fixing pictures on my walls and tried my fucking hardest to look nonchalant and god damn I hoped it was working or I was so fucking screwed as I asked, "How was Port Angeles?"

She shrugged and her tits danced and I completely missed the next part of what she said, until I heard "tequila". Then I questioned her, but really couldn't be held responsible for what came out of my mouth because I was too intent on her boobs and hoping they'd jiggle again. I much preferred her perfect ass, but what was I, a eunuch? Her tits were fucking perfect, and who was I to turn down perfectly delicious boob meat?

I asked her something about what her plans were, but mostly so I could mimic her voice in my head and go, "Why, bouncing my fabulous ass all over your thighs while I fuck your brains out, you studly and magnificently masculine specimen of raw man-sex on perfectly toned legs."

The Bella moan-falsetto in my head stopped just in time for me to hear her invite me to her house at midnight. I choked and spluttered inwardly and tried my best not to show that shit as I was pretty sure my cock just slapped me in the belly button and went "hit that shit, you fucking pansy!", so I just quirked an eyebrow and questioned her plan-making capabilities, because alcoholic or not, her dad still had a fucking gun.

Say what you will about Edward Can-Slap-Himself-In-His-Own-Belly-Button-With-His-Giant-Cock Cullen, but I have all the fucking orifices I need, and would not be fucking behooved by the addition of any new ones, courtesy of the chief's standard issue firearm, please and motherfucking thank you.

Then all of the sudden, she wasn't sprawled out on my couch anymore, but was striding toward me and her tits were doing the special "Hi, Edward, so happy to see you" dance, and her big beautiful lips were turning up in the corner, and they were smiling all "Oh, Edward, please drive your giant, thickly-veined, yet beautiful and perfectly shaped penile appendage between us so that we may expertly fellate you" and I forgot to breathe, so I just smirked instead.

She said something that ended in Tarzan, and I was about to be offended, but then I decided I wouldn't mind fucking her all jungle-style, and even though I didn't know what that would entail entirely, I was too distracted to try to figure it out when she trailed her fingers down my arm and simpered at me. What the fuck was _that? _I was pretty sure I didn't even know what the fuck a simper looked like, but I was almost positive that she had just done it, and then she was gone, and I had somehow agreed to monkey the fuck out and have a nightcap in a house that probably had more fucking guns than the local NRA meeting.

She had fucking superpowers in that god damn bra.

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At fucking 11:57 I was in Swan's tree, trying not to fucking die, because god damn it, I was not any kind of motherfucking Tarzan. Although, even I had to admit, I would look pretty fucking cute in a leopard print loincloth. I mean . . . rugged and manly. Yeah. Definitely manly.

I tried not to wince at the fresh scrapes and fucking contusions I'd managed to amass tackling that fucking tree. I was cursing at it and insulting its whore of a redwood mother when Bella opened the window and smirked at me, all amused and questioning like.

"Insulting my tree, Cullen?"

"Only because it insulted me first, Swan. Get out of the way before I have to cut it down and make Charmin out of it."

She snorted but moved aside and I shimmied my way through the window and landed on both feet, fortunately, because while diving face first into her floor would have some hilarity factor, it wasn't exactly the type of carpet-munching I'd prefer.

"Pajama pants? Really? What's the matter, Cullen, they were all sold out of the ones with feet actually stitched onto them?"

"Don't fuck with me, Swan. And piss off while you're at it, because these are fucking Eddie Bauer flannel pajama man-pants, and they're reserved exclusively for ruggedly manly men who climb trees and shit."

I was picking leaves and twigs and shit out of my hair and grumbling when Bella laughed and stepped forward to help me. That's when I noticed she wasn't wearing a bra. I wondered briefly if her sole purpose in life was to fuck with my head. Both of them. If I didn't enjoy her so much, I'd push her out of the fucking window and make sure something heavy followed.

She was wearing a thin white wife beater which clearly outlined her nipples and gray sweat pants, cut off at mid-calf. They were rolled up around her tiny, flat waist and the way the beater bunched up, it left a couple of inches of skin exposed between its edge and the top of the sweat pants. That meager fucking sliver had me panting internally. That settled it for me then and there. The girl was straight fucking evil. There was no other explanation.

She was the lost child of Rosemary. Had to be. I made a mental note to discreetly check for the mark of the beast. I hoped she'd recover fully with an exorcism and that her great tits and remarkable ass wouldn't be compromised in the process. I wondered if she'd spin her head all around and puke green stuff or if she'd do that creepy crab-walk down the stairs, because I really didn't fucking think I could handle that shit –

"Why are you staring at me like that, twat muffin?" she cut in, rudely.

I grinned, because that seemed to habitually distract her, and maybe she'd fucking forget what she was trying to question me about.

I shoved my way past her, because at least then I could pretend that I didn't notice the full swell of her hips or the way that the material of the thin shirt clung enticingly to the curves and flat planes of her torso . . . and begged to be bitten.

I nosily rummaged around her room, picking shit up and inspecting it, opening drawers and peering around inside them, flipping open the top to her jewelry box, poking at stuff inside it. She smirked at me and I tried not to laugh or spontaneously ejaculate when I found her underwear drawer, because motherfucker, all that stuff had touched her pink parts, and it was irrational to be jealous of clothing. I resisted the urge to pocket anything in there, because it would only lead to beating off more, and peach lotion or not, my junk was starting to chafe.

"When you're done being all Invasion of the Panty Snatchers over there, why don't you grab the shot glasses and sit the fuck down already?"

I grinned and turned around to see her produce a bottle of Jack and sit down cross-legged on her bed.

_Oh no. Bella. On her bed. And I'm in her room. And I'm supposed to get on that bed. Her bed. Bella's bed. The bed belonging to Bella. Me and Bella. In a bed. This is bad. Bed is bad. Bad bed. Can't fuck her. Don't fuck her. Bad bed. _

But instead of saying that, because I had a motherfucking image to uphold, I plastered on my cocky fuckface smirk and _sauntered_ to her bed. I sat right the fuck down like I owned that shit and then kicked off my shoes when she smacked my calf and called me a heathen pig. Such a charmer.

She grinned at me and I caught an excellent view of her braless tits as she leaned forward to pour us each a double shot.

She winked at me and clinked our glasses together and toasted, "To your innate tree-climbing abilities, Curious George."

"Fucking right. I have a prehensile cock."

We choked back our shots while she laughed at me and I was caught up in it for a minute before I narrowed my eyes at her as I caught the music coming out of her bedside iPod dock.

"Swan . . . what the fuck is this garbage?"

She sighed and closed her eyes dreamily as she leaned back and stuck her cute little pedicured feet in my lap. She didn't even call me a fuckface bastard with no taste. I wondered how hard she'd hit the sauce today.

"What's wrong, Cullen? Too much of an elitist to appreciate Top 40's hits?"

We swallowed two more rounds while I berated her sensibilities.

"This isn't a _hit_, Swan. This is a fucking musical seizure over a synthesized beat. It's making my ears bleed. Did that bitch really just say "poker face" thirty seven times?"

"Probably," she grinned and nudged me with a pretty painted toe. "Unfortunately, we're not in your car, so you can't subject me to your grandpa music." I knew she was goading me. I fucking knew it. That's just the kind of evil, calculating wench she was. She was probably enjoying insulting my musical taste because she had none and was just bitter about the fact that I actually enjoyed _real _music, and besides, I had an incredibly eclectic taste in tunes, and I was just about to tell her so when she cut me off.

"Go ahead, let me have it," she gestured, while slamming back a double.

I was vaguely confused by this abrupt change in the conversation and my cock sprang to attention, vehemently volunteering to be the "it" that would be given to Bella. So instead of impaling her, I threw back my own liquor and raised an eyebrow and said, "Have what, wench?"

"Your lecture about how this isn't music. You were just about to tell me about how I don't have any taste and this isn't actually music, right? Go ahead, snob."

Son of a bitch. It was like she could read minds. Oh god. _What if she can read minds? What if she knows about all the filthy shit I've ever thought about her? I think shit about her that would get me jailed in at least fourteen states and seven US territories. Plus I don't even know if she's _that_ flexible, but really there's only one way to find out, and I bet if I do that fucking simper thing she might just let me, and I bet I could get her leg all the way behind - _

"Well, Cullen? I'm waiting. School me."

I realized this was turning ugly, fast. And because all logic had left me at that point, and I couldn't think of anything but proving a point or railing her silly, I tried to drown my penis with more Jack and said, "And waste my years of hard-earned genius on your fucking deaf ears? You couldn't appreciate real music if it bit you in your perfect ass, you ingrate. And Optimus Prime isn't ugly."

She narrowed her eyes shrewdly before they went wide and she grinned at me. "So my ass is perfect, huh?"

_Oh fuck. She caught that. Be smooth, Cullen. Be subtle. I am motherfucking Edward Can-Talk-Your-Great-Grandma-Out-Her-Giant-Beige-Panties Cullen. I can do this. _

So then I went and was all fucking genius about it and said, "Quiet, hussy," and smacked her hands away as I yanked her stupid iPod nano out of the dock and replaced it with my own iTouch, pulled hastily out of my back pocket.

"Listen here, Swan. I'm gonna put this on fucking _shuffle_ and there's a ninety nine percent chance that whatever the fuck comes out will defile and copiously spit all over your ear-drum raping garbage. And then you'll have to admit that you suck, and I win, and proclaim me master of all that is awesome, including your ass."

"You're an elitist cockface, and you couldn't handle my ass, self-proclaimed master or not. Not that it isn't awesome, and thanks for that, by the way. But you still couldn't handle it."

Already tipsy and now with fresh Jack on top of it, I was a little sloppy in getting to my knees on the bed and I flung my hand out haphazardly to silence her insolence, sloshing droplets of liquor on her bedspread.

"Quiet, trollop!"

She giggled and threw back another shot and questioned my sexuality in no flattering terms while I leaned over and turned up the volume a little so she'd be sure to get an earful of my epic superiority.

I shoved her feet away roughly and even though they were cute as fuck, I made some dickhead comparison between her and a caveman and even though she smacked me _hard _in my chest, she giggled. She was laughing and waving her hands around in front of her face, trying not to snort while I called her a heathen and attempted not to knock shit over because a bunch of loud _thumps_ on the floor would surely summon the Chief and as previously noted, I had just the right amount of holes in my body already.

Bella was in hysterics at that point, shoving a pillow over her face to muffle her laughter, her other hand holding her half full shot glass up in the air while her chest heaved and that fucking tank top rode up higher over her flat belly.

She was so god damn ridiculous I laughed a little at her, and because you don't waste good liquor, I took that fucking shot out of her hand with my mouth, upending the glass between my lips and swallowing the rest of the booze like a champ.

She called me a fucking thief and was about to demand I give her a refill when I stuck my hand over her mouth and stopped her mid-sentence.

"Shut up, Swan, and listen."

"What the fuck is this, Old Man River? It sounds like elevator music," she spit out from between my fingers and shoved my hand away.

"It's not elevator music! My god, have you been living in your MTV bubble for _that_ long?"

"Cullen, I've had just about enough of your insulting me, you fucking cockmonger. Just because we don't have the same taste-"

And then the lyrics were starting and she was going to miss the best part so I yanked her to me, and wrapped an arm around the back of her neck and left my fingers over her lips while I held her face to my chest so she'd shut the fuck up and listen.

Aaron Neville started singing about telling it like is and I refused to acknowledge the coincidence of the situation. Bella quit flopping around like a fish out of water and snuggled into me some more, so I let my hand drop from her mouth and toy with the ends of her hair instead. I was pretty sure that the liquor formed a volatile chemical combination with whatever the fuck it was in her shampoo or lotion or girly juice that gave her that peachy smell, but it directly afflicted my brain and made me semi-retarded.

I was humming softly to her, and kind of appreciating neither one of us trying to rape the other, because she was really warm and it felt nice. Just as it got to the point of _forgetting your foolish pride_, she looked up at me questioningly. Her big eyes were swimming with questions and I knew what was coming, so as soon as she opened her mouth I panicked.

Granted, my solution to the panic was probably the stupidest decision I could have made, considering the circumstances, but it was the only thing I could think of at the time, and a tiny little figure of Jack Daniel was sitting on my shoulder, hollering in my ear "Do it, bitch!" and for some reason, he had Emmett's voice. So instead of waiting for her to ask me what the fuck my problem was, I lost about a hundred and thirty two IQ points and shut her up with my mouth.

I planted my lips on hers and she stiffened against me immediately, probably fucking as shocked as I was. Neither of us moved for a few seconds, both in disbelief, and we just sat there, my hand still in her hair, lowrider oldies playing in the background, all pressed together, just _immobile. _And then she exhaled softly into my mouth, kind of a breath and kind of a sigh, and she tasted like Jack and like Bella and I was drunk off them both.

I groaned and I doubted it was just in my head like I meant it to be, and I shifted so that we were facing each other and I traced my tongue over her bottom lip. It was so soft and fully and juicy and tasted so fucking spicy sweet I had to bite it. I tugged it with my teeth and when her fingers tightened on my waist, I sucked it into my mouth. She moaned a little and there was more of that Bella flavor floating around in my mouth and I couldn't take it, so I sucked her tongue to get more. It was so fucking good, and better than I had expected or even thought of when beating off furiously, and I seriously couldn't help myself. I shifted a hand to the hair at the back of her neck and wrapped it in my fist and pulled her harder into me.

Her mouth broke away from mine and her head fell back while she gasped for air greedily, and her chest was heaving, even better than it had been in my head and it did something to my fucking loins. This Bambi-eyed girl with a bitch side, all exposed and without a vixen façade, just panting and heaving and with my hand pulling her hair, her gripping my hip bones with all the strength in her tiny little hands; it poked at something in me I couldn't fucking think about. I leaned forward and we both fell off the side of the bed, taking her cheap night table lamp with us, the bulb shattering on impact and plunging her small room into darkness except for the moonlight coming through the still open window.

She laughed, silently and breathlessly and I didn't even bother making a fucking joke about her stuff exploding at how wicked awesome I am, because she was still making those half sigh, half pant noises and breathing heavily. Because I'm a motherfucking gentleman, I gave her a chance to catch her breath and myself a chance to taste more of that fucking skin, so when I landed on top of her on her carpet with one of my shoes stabbing me in the shin, instead of kissing her mouth again, I fell on her neck. Her pulse was dancing and beating like a hummingbird under the thin skin of her throat and I sucked it anyway because I wanted it to beat faster. I sucked up the column of her throat to just under her ear and settled on the little hollow behind her jawbone. The smell of her was seeping out of her fucking pores and it's not like it was fucking lotion or shampoo or anything else, it was the smell and the taste of _Bella_ and just the idea that it was _her_, whatever it is that makes up all of her, was on my tongue and in my nose and it made me crazy, and I lost the bullshit gentleman front just as fast as I had decided to play it.

My control just snapped and fucking flew right out the window with my common sense and I gave up. I groaned thickly and bit at the tender flesh of her neck and when she gasped and sunk her fingers into the skin of my shoulder blades, I stopped resting all of my weight on my arms, and let my lower body fall on top of hers. Her hands wandered up the back of my neck and gripped the hair at my nape tightly and she pulled. It was so fucking hot, and my dick was pulsing with the beat of my heart, out of my control and beyond any level of caring I had left.

Our body heat mingled through our clothes and I started to sweat, covering my body with hers, tangled together on her floor. I gasped for air as her legs wrapped around the backs of my thighs and threw my head back to gulp for it. Her nails clawed into my scalp and I didn't fucking care because those perfect lips were on my throat and all I could think about was the sensation of it over my jugular and thinking how odd it was that our hearts were both slamming around all crazy like, but still in some wonky sort of tandem.

My strength was rapidly fleeting to my dick so as I moaned and exhaled breathily, I let my head fall forward to rest next to hers. She was tugging my earlobe between her teeth and it felt like it was directly attached to my dick, because it was twitching and jumping with every tug of her mouth and I was sure she could feel it between my thin pajama pants and her old worn out sweats.

I breathed hotly in her ear, "Fuck, Bella," and I knew she liked it because it was still wet from the sucking I had just done there and she shivered.

She moaned loudly and completely fucking involuntarily, my hips started to rock forward of their own accord and _holy mother of fuck – _

She was _so_ wet.

My hips were moving against her and as she moaned and bit and sucked at me, we were locked together, sweaty and grinding, and my dick was pushing forward and through the thin layers of pajamas between us. The head of it found her, dripping and seeping through the material.

As unmanly as it was, I moaned out loud and bit her shoulder harshly because _fuck_. I could smell how much she wanted me, and could feel it on the tip of my dick and her mouth was over the hollow at the base of my throat. I rocked into her gently, my cock pressing against what I knew to be her clit because her body tightened and coiled and her head flew back and she gasped and bit her own lip. Her perfect neck was bared to me, so as I leaned down to take advantage of it with my mouth, I cupped her perfect left tit in my right hand, flicking my fingers across the hardened nipple. I felt a burn in my belly and I had never been harder in my life, so I kissed down her sternum and closed my mouth around her perfect tit, over the barely-there barrier of the wife beater. I bit it roughly and sucked it into my mouth and fabric or not, it tasted fucking amazing so I flicked it with my tongue.

She moaned and breathed, "Edward" and for some fucking reason, I went all primal. I loved the sound of my name on her tongue, completely involuntarily. When her brain shut the fuck down and the only thing controlling her mouth was instinct, it was my name I wanted her moaning. I bit down and sucked harder and my hand reached around to cup her perfect ass.

The world stopped spinning and somewhere a fucking fairy got its wings, because it was the most perfect ass to ever grace the bottom of anyone's back, fucking ever. It was so round and firm but kind of jiggly and it was fucking amazing in my hand so I roughly squeezed it and pulled her harder into me. I cupped it harshly and used my grip to grind her harder onto my dick because I fucking loved the way I could feel her, even through our clothes, wet on my cock.

Her panting was becoming faster and she was rolling her hips harder, forcing that perfectly wet, juicy pussy to slide over my cock and I heard her breathing hitch. It fucking did something to my brain and I growled in her ear as I bit it.

I pulled her to me harder and kept rocking the fat head of my dick against her, shorter and more intensely and I felt it from her bones, that she was there on the precipice and _god damn it she was fucking mine and she would fucking come when I told her to._

I bit her neck, hard, and sucked at her ear so that when I whispered into it, my breath would ghost across the wet flesh and she'd tremble again, just the way I liked it. I felt her hard nipples stabbing into my chest and she was probably leaving vicious fucking claw marks on my back even through my t-shirt, and her legs were wrapped around the my thighs, and she was rolling her full hips against me and I grabbed her ass and shoved her against me harder as I moaned and whispered roughly in her ear, "Fucking come for me Bella, all over my fucking cock."

I covered her mouth with my hand as her body stiffened and her back arched against me in the most delicious fucking way and she screamed profanities into it while I felt her leaking onto my cock and I wished with every motherfucking thing I had that I was buried in her right then, feeling her muscles contract over me and milk me while her body racked with spasms.

I laid there with her while she came back down and listened to her heart beating all loud and crazy inside my head and my cock was still pulsing, and I was wondering just how fast I could get her out of those fucking pants when she chuckled softly to herself.

She smirked up at me and looked all fucking self satisfied as she wiggled her hips a little bit and traced her perfect fingers over my jaw and I leaned my face into her palm. "Find something you like as much as the Volvo, gramps?"

_Oh._

_My._

_Fucking._

_God._

_The Volvo. The motherfucking Volvo. I just messed around with Bella._

_Holy fucking shit on a stick. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. _

I jumped up like my ass was on fucking fire, and stumbled backwards with my hands out in front of me like she was about to fucking Friday the Thirteenth me, and my cock was still rocked the fuck up, pointing at her accusingly from behind my manly Eddie Bauer pajama pants.

She shot straight the fuck up with confusion in one eye and death in the other. She walked toward me and said, "What the fuck, Edward?" like she was either about to cry or fucking lay waste to my face, and I tripped and stumbled some more, still backwards.

"Bella, I just . . . Fuck. _Fuck!"_

"What's your _fucking_ problem, you douchebag?" she whispered venomously, clearly having trouble not fucking screaming. I knew there was no fucking way I could explain so I did my nervous dance, which happened to look a lot fucking like a toddler's "gotta pee!" dance and shuffled toward the window. I was just about to hop out of it when I heard a sound from Bella that could have been a growl or a sniffle, but the front of my pants still had evidence of her orgasm on them, so I couldn't just jump the fuck out like a Masked Marauding Molester who gives women the best orgasms of their life and vanishes clean the fuck into the night.

Even though that would be awesome, because I would wear a fucking Zorro mask and have a little button-up flap over my cock for easy marauding –

"Fuck you, Edward."

My face and my heart and my cock fell instantly, and I felt like a complete fucking tool, but I still kind of wanted to hump her some more.

I stopped what I was doing, one leg out the window and stared at Bella, all disheveled and messy and fucking post-orgasm or mid-rage glowing and dashed forward.

I grabbed her beautiful, enraged face between my god damn traitorous shaking hands and yanked her face to me, kissing her roughly and hoping she felt that fucking tingle she gave me in my chest that made me want to fucking vomit. Well, I hoped she got the tingle part, not the vomit, because that was kind of fucking gross.

I sighed into her face and kissed the tip of her nose softly, because I saw that shit in a movie once and Alice and Rosalie both went "aww" and I figured it would give me less of a chance of getting kneed straight in the fucking junk like goddamn meese antlers.

Then I turned and hauled balls and flung myself out of her window without a fucking hint of grace, while she just stood there, arms crossed over her chest, lifting her tits, a little ring of wetness over the left one from my mouth, and I really wished I were back in there.

But then I caught sight of my car down the street, reflecting the moonlight. I looked at it, and then back at Bella and I wished she could fucking see what I saw. But she probably wasn't retarded and a selfish dick like I was, so I just sighed at the picture of her, enraged and hurt and still a little wobbly-kneed – because, really, I'm that motherfucking good – from the tree and shimmied my way down it.

I cussed the whole fucking way down and was still so weak and disorganized and trembly myself that I fell the last few fucking feet and busted ass on the exposed roots that stuck up from the hard ground.

Fucking shit. I'd be feeling the effects of this fucking night for a long time to come.

I rubbed my ass with one hand and my chest with the other to ease the ache in both as I ran toward the moonlight.

***

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**I don't even fucking smoke and I need a cigarette! Well my loves, this chapter came on the tail end of some major heartbreak, cuz it's fucking painful to have your work ripped off, however minutely. So give me some lovins! (And hey you, thief, cuz I know you're reading this – fucking STOP it!)**

**Thanks for the patience my darling loves, and I hope this was worth it. Please tell me what you think and how you feel! I am dying to know, and it will strongly influence where this story goes!**


	12. Dead Money

**Disclaimer: We don't own any part of the Twilight Universe. Drunksper, however, belongs solely to me. **

**And awaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay we go!**

* * *

For the first and only time since I'd moved to goddamn Forks. . .hell, for the first fucking time _ever_, I felt absolutely. . .

Nothing.

I was standing at my window, my arms folded across my chest as I glared through the glass, watching Cullen's fairy ass booking it across my yard. The front of my shirt was still damp from his fucking tongue, and I knew I should probably feel cold as a gust of moldy Forks air swept through my open window.

But I couldn't. Because all I could feel was. . .just fucking nothing.

I kept my eyes locked on Cullen as he dashed wildly towards the forest that bordered my yard. A strangely numb and almost frozen feeling seemed to take hold of me as I continued to stare out the window, watching Cullen scrambling away from me like his life fucking depended on it. I actually really fucking wished I could laugh as I saw him eat shit on a tree root, then go tumbling ass over elbows before his face smashed straight into the ground. That shit was fucking hilarious, and it served his bitch ass right, too - and although I knew it, I just. . .couldn't fucking _feel_ it.

_What just happened_?

I had no clue. One minute, Edward had been in my arms, all tangled in me, touching and sucking me like he was a dying man and I was the only piece of ass he'd ever fucking seen. He had been all around me, breathing my name, moaning into my mouth, and begging me to come for him while pretty much fucking me straight through my clothes. And just as I had been sure that said clothes were going to come flying off, he had ran out on me like his ass was on fire.

_Again_.

I really fucking wished I could feel something as I replayed the ridiculous scene in my head, but I was still numb as I thought back to the wild look that had flashed in his eyes as he had straddled my window. I had never seen anything like that look before, and I sure as fuck didn't know what to make of it. And then he had run back to me, kissing me so fucking hard but not nearly enough before he had sailed through my window again, taking off like a bat out of hell.

I started wondering if I was having some kind of allergic reaction to him as I tried unsuccessfully to move away from my window. I mean, he _had_ spent entirely too much time scaling trees and shit - which was probably _not_ very healthy. What if I'd caught something from his tree-swinging ass?

Why couldn't I move? Why couldn't I fucking _feel_ anything? And why the fuck was my chest so goddamn tight?

But right at that moment, I heard the unmistakable screech of squealing tires, echoing from somewhere in the distance.

And that was when it _fucking hit me._

_What?! The?! Fuck?!_

A fucking _blinding_ rage surged through me, restoring the use of my limbs as I shrieked and grabbed the closest object to me, then cocked that shit back and hurled it straight at the wall.

The drinking glass shattered with a satisfying crash, but it didn't help any as the jagged shards fell to the floor, mixing with the pieces of my lamp that the Jackass himself had knocked over in his quest to not-really-get-into my pants. I growled viciously as I slammed my window down, smacking it hard against the sill before flying to my bed and burying my face into my pillows.

The scream that I let loose was pretty fucking ungodly, and I kept it up until my throat was raw and my lungs were aching from the effort. I had never been so enraged in my entire life. What in the fuck did that cocklick think he was _doing_? The fucking game he was playing had officially gone too damn far, and I beat my fist against my mattress as I called him every name in the book - and some pretty fucking new ones, too.

I just couldn't _believe_ he had done that to me. This entire thing was turning into a mindfuck of epic proportions, and I squeezed my eyes shut as frustrated tears welled behind my eyes. It wasn't even like I was crying - it was more like my rage was leaking straight out of my eyeballs, and I kicked the foot board of my bed as the hot tears began soaking my pillow. Was Cullen fucking _ill_? Because this shit just didn't make any sense anymore. I had always assumed he had some motherfucking game going on - some angle he thought he could fucking play. But goddamnit, what guy would go flying out a second-story bedroom window, dick at full-mast, and fucking _enjoy_ it?

_Masochistic son of a bitch_.

There had to be more than that though. This was _twice_ now that Edward had done this. _Twice_ now that he'd come so close to me - to finally taking me like I _knew_ he damn well wanted to - then spontaneously ran the fuck out on me like I was the goddamn swine flu!

I swiped furiously at my face as I thought back to the fucked up kiss he had planted on me right before diving out my window like Super Agent Titty Suck or some shit. What _was_ that? It reminded me of those douchey war movies - you know, where the guy has to go on some suicidal mission or other, so he takes a minute to suck face with some girl before running head-first into fucking ground zero. Which really didn't make any sense, because the only thing his bitch ass needed to be afraid of was _me_.

Because I was going to _Fucking. Kill. Him_. The Big Ugly One wasn't going to have _shit_ on Cullen's face once I got my hands on him.

I sighed and punched my mattress once more for good measure before rolling out of bed and storming to my dresser. That motherfucker's saliva was still all the fuck over me, and I didn't hesitate as I yanked the top drawer open, then slammed that bitch shut as hard as I could. I wasn't worried about Charlie at this point - if that drunk fuck was capable of waking up, I was pretty sure it would have happened some time between falling lamps and flying water glasses. He really was the most convenient drunkard I'd ever fucking met.

I stripped my shirt off as fast as possible, then balled it up and threw it into the trash, just for good measure. Who did that asshole think he _was_, anyway? I mean, Jesus Christ, I would have a better chance trying to seduce the fucking Pope the way this shit was going! I sneered at the wall as I pulled a fresh shirt on and stomped back to bed. Sure, Cullen was hot - probably the hottest guy in this entire Population:5 town. But I was _Bella Fucking Swan_. Men fell all over me. Men fell to their fucking knees just to _be near_ me. I mean, it was like they couldn't fucking help themselves -

I froze.

_Couldn't help themselves_.

My jaw actually fell open, and I slumped onto my bed as I let the words roll through me.

_Oh my God_.

He couldn't _help_ himself.

My face twisted into a weird cross between elation and confusion as I realized that Cullen hadn't run out on me just to fuck with me. He had _screwed up_. He hadn't _meant_ to start shit with me - he just _Couldn't._ _Fucking. Help it._

Well. . .of course he couldn't. Bella Fucking Swan, remember?

Of course, this all meant that I had been _that close_ to winning this fucked up, take-all game. I couldn't quite decide whether that was a mini-victory, or an epic fail, but I quickly decided it was a moot point anyway. The real question was what in the goddamn _hell_ could be worth such a scathing case of blue balls? Seriously - what the _fuck _could be worth resisting _me_?

I shook my head as I crawled into bed and pulled the covers over me. The fact remained that I still didn't know what this shit centered around - and in all honesty, I really didn't know how much more I could take. This touch-and-run bullshit _had_ to end - and fuck if I wasn't going to be the one to do it. Because one more fuck-up like this, and Cullen was going to earn himself a one-way ticket to the fucking hospital - minus a nut or two.

I huffed before closing my eyes and burying my face into my pillow. Tomorrow was Sunday, which meant I wouldn't have to see his dumb ass for a full 24 hours - which was pretty fucking lucky for that pretty face of his. I _was_, however, going to get _my_ fine ass down to business - and I was going to need to be well-rested to do it.

I took a deep breath and tried to shut my mind down, trying to let sleep overtake me. And it worked, for the most part.

Except for one, tiny part of my mind that couldn't seem to shut the hell up. A part that never quite managed to turn off that night, but continued to nag at me, even when sleep finally came.

And it was that part that continued to replay every, single moment of Cullen's wild, frustrating, final kiss - even in my dreams.

******

"_Ouch!_ _Motherfuckincocksuckincuntmuchinsonofabitch__. . ._"

I kept up my stream of profanities as I assessed the damage to my finger. Sure enough, a tiny drop of blood was already seeping from the small cut.

_Bloodshed before 9 am? Fan-fucking-__tastic_.

I rolled my eyes before glowering disdainfully down at the pile of broken glass before me. It had been the first thing I had seen when I had woken up, and my mood had turned immediately vile. The fact that I would have to clean up the mess that Cullen had left behind only added insult to injury - and I'd thought very fucking seriously about rolling off the other side of the bed and completely ignoring it. But the idea of leaving scattered shards of glass all over my floor didn't seem like a particularly genius thing to do either, so with a growl of annoyance, I had kicked off the covers and knelt down to begin collecting the bigger of the pieces. And then promptly sliced myself, of course.

I sighed as I grabbed a tissue, then wound it around my finger before carefully collecting a few more pieces and dumping them into the trash. The rest would have to wait for a dust pan - and I did _not_ have time for that shit right now. Today was going to be tricky, and the last thing I needed to do was waste my morning sweeping up a bunch of fucking debris. With one more scathing glare at the wreckage, I grabbed my rug from behind me and threw it over the remaining mess.

With a satisfied nod, I rose swiftly to my feet, then turned to snatch my cell off of my dresser. It was time to put my plan for the day into motion.

After a moment of consideration, I took a deep breath, then quickly tapped in my message.

_Morning, sunshine._

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed between my fingers, and I grinned as I opened the incoming message.

_If you're trying to sweet talk your way into my pants, you're SOL. Tits aside, you're just not my type._

I snorted. Ah, Rose.

_Maybe next time. Wanna do lunch?_

This was crucial - if she was busy, I was screwed. I actually found myself holding my fucking breath as her next message came in.

_Sure. You're paying._

I exhaled sharply as a grin spread across my face.

_You know it. Come get me around noon?_

_Sounds good. Emmett's lazy ass will still be in bed, anyway. _

_Cya__ then_.

I smiled wickedly as I replaced my cell then strode towards my closet. So far, so good. If anyone was willing to spill the goods, I was almost sure it would be Rose. Unlike Alice, I knew that Rose's loyalties laid only with herself - what doesn't benefit her is no good to her, anyway. She certainly wouldn't give a damn about fucking up Cullen's day - hell, she might actually even enjoy it. All I needed to do was push the odds in my favor, and I'd fucking have her. And Cullen too, by extension.

With that in mind, I bypassed my wardrobe for moment, reaching instead towards the very top shelf of my closet. I stretched onto my tiptoes as I searched the shelf, my fingers sweeping and prodding around the hidden space.

"Goddamnit," I mumbled as I craned my head upwards, "Where the hell is it?" But after a few more moments, my fingers finally curled around the small object, and I grinned to myself as I quickly pulled it down. The small, gold clutch gleamed in my hands, and I smiled as I swept my fingers over the polished leather, then across the turning lock. If there was one thing that could win Rose's heart, this Coach fold-over was sure to do it. No bitch could resist this shit - and it would be a small price to pay if it meant that I would finally be able to cut through Cullen's bullshit and own his fucking ass.

I resisted the urge to rub my hands together and laugh maniacally or some shit as I shoved the clutch into my purse, then grabbed a pair of skinny black jeans and a sweater out of my closet. The jeans were tight as hell, and they accentuated my ass quite nicely as I shimmied my way into them. The turtleneck sweater was a bold shade of red, but had a slit across the chest that would expose a fantastic cutout of my cleavage. The devil himself didn't have shit on me today, and I _almost_ wished that I would run in to Cullen, just to be able to see his face once he caught sight of my fine ass. Of course, I knew it wouldn't have done any good, anyway - I would have probably just scratched his eyes out the moment I saw him. Fucking prick.

I spent the rest of the morning piling my hair on top of my head in a sophisticated twist, then applying just the right amount of makeup. I was going to have to bring my A-game with me today, and I was determined to look sexy while doing it. Once I was convinced that I was ready to make every male in Forks eat his fucking heart out, I slipped on my Choos, grabbed my purse, and marched purposefully out my door.

Once I reached the foot of the stairs, I noticed with delight that I had fifteen minutes to spare. I lingered for a moment, wondering whether or not to just wait outside. It wasn't raining yet - but of course, I knew that could change at any moment. Just when I had decided to fuck it and take my chances, I was startled by the sound of a throat being cleared harshly behind me.

"Bells?" a rough voice coughed from the kitchen, and I grimaced before turning around.

"Hi, Daddy!" I sang in my most convincing, sickly-sweet daughter voice. Goddamnit. What was he doing here?

"Hi, honey," Charlie hacked again, and I noticed him wincing at the light that was streaming through the front window. Nice. Hungover much?

A moment of awkward silence passed between us, and I shifted from one foot to the other as I took in his appearance. Not that there was much to it, though - he looked like hell.

"You look pretty, Bella," Charlie nodded, then dropped his eyes to his feet.

I paused before replying softly, "Thanks, Dad."

I exhaled slowly, frowning across the room. Issues aside, I knew he was trying. With a sigh, I glanced at the clock on the wall. Thirteen minutes and counting. Eh. . .I had time.

"Um. . .since we're both a little late out of bed this morning. . .would you like some eggs?" I asked.

Charlie's head whipped upward, and the grimace that followed was pathetic at best. That was all I needed.

"Sit down, Dad. I'll be back in a minute."

I blew past him without making eye contact, then set my purse down before hurrying towards the fridge. Eggs had always been a fucking glorious remedy for my hangovers, and I hoped they'd do the same for him. Plus, it was all I had time for, anyway.

I turned on the stove and swiftly cracked a few eggs, eying the microwave clock as I reached for a spatula. Ten minutes. I upped the heat and began furiously mixing the goo in the pan. This shit was gonna have to hurry - there was no way I was going to be late over a fucking pity breakfast. Three minutes later, I added a dash of salt, then a bit of milk. Two more minutes passed, and I hurriedly dumped the fluffy eggs onto a plate, then turned to head towards the door. But through the doorway, I caught sight of Charlie, holding his head in his hands as he slumped in his recliner, no doubt waiting for me to leave before cracking open another bottle. With a despondent sigh, I set the plate down, then opened the cabinet and reached up to the top shelf. Sure enough, my fingers curled instantly around the secret stash of Advil, and I shook two out onto his plate before filling a glass of water. It was exactly noon at this point, and I slung my purse over my shoulder and dashed towards the living room.

"Here, Dad. Eat up," I said as I set the plate unceremoniously on the table in front of him.

"Thanks Bells," he said, without looking at me, and I nodded uncomfortably.

The sound of Rose's horn blared from outside, promptly saving me from any further conversation.

"Gotta go," I shrugged. "I'll be home later."

He nodded, and I patted his shoulder once before running out the door.

***

"_Tickle 'N Pink_? Are you fucking _kidding me_, Rose?"

"If you don't like it, feel free to hoof it home," she shrugged as I gaped out the car window. "Actually, I'm sure _that_ guy would be happy transport you - for a small fee, of course," she grinned as she gestured towards a middle aged man that was walking swiftly through the parking lot, sweating goddamn bullets.

I snickered. "If he keeps that shit up, I'll be _swimming_ my way home. Anyway, it's not the what, it's the _why_," I clarified as I turned back to her, quirking an eyebrow as I gestured out the window to the strip club before us.

"Because," she shrugged nonchalantly as she opened her door, "Any motherfucker that claims Hooters has the best wings around is fucking deprived. Wait till you try this shit - their honey hot wings are from _Jesus._"

I smirked, highly doubting that Jesus had anything to do with the immediate vicinity, but stepped out of the vehicle anyway.

The building, like everything in this town, was fucking decrepit. The door was a sickly vomit-green, and the walls were yellowed and peeling, giving it the perfect seedy look - and I briefly wondered if they'd done that shit on purpose. Rose didn't hesitate as she strode immediately towards the door, and I followed, carefully inspecting the array of tobacco stains that littered the pavement. Of course, I was so caught up in the blackened stains that I realized way too fucking belatedly that a bouncer - formerly known as The Hulk - was waiting right at the door.

In all seriousness, the guy stationed out front was pretty fucking huge, and I shot a questioning glance at Rose as she led us right up to him. I mean, this was no Tiny Fucking Tim like at the Port Angeles bar. This guy looked like he slaughtered his own cows when craving a hamburger. Fuck Burger King, folks - we've got our own goddamn meat factory here.

But, to my utter fucking astonishment, the only mind he paid us was a quick nod, along with a "Hey, Rose."

"Hey yourself," she returned with a small smile, and without a second glance, she curled her hand around the door handle and pulled.

I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. Fucking Rose.

"Don't ever let anyone accuse you of being classy, Rose," I teased as the door groaned open.

"Fuck classy. I'm hungry," she scoffed, then disappeared inside. I caught the heavy door before it had a chance to close behind her, then followed her in, gagging slightly as the stench of stale smoke and cheap perfume washed over me. The place was, of course, dimly lit - the only light sources coming from the glow of the bar and the black lights that throbbed above the rectangular platform in the center of the room. ZZ Top blared from over head, and the entire space was plastered with unfair amounts of mirrors and pleather while one lone bitch was dancing her ass off in the center of the dingy fashion nightmare. I snorted as I caught sight of the only two patrons, glued to their chairs as they watched her. . .doing what? I wasn't really sure. Drop it like it's hot? Raise the fucking roof? Whatever it was, it was _not_ fucking pretty.

"Just FYI," Rose cut in as I snorted at the saggy entertainment, "these bitches are fifty bucks a pop - not even worth the pole they slide on. The bar down the street averages about one-ten."

I couldn't help it - I burst out laughing. Rose snorted softly as she smirked sideways at me, then led the way to the bar in the back of the room. As soon as we were seated, Rose whistled sharply, attracting the attention of the sixty-something barmaid. The old broad pivoted immediately, a look of death in her eyes, and I struggled to reign in my chuckles as she eyed me warily. But at that moment, her narrowed eyes slid to Rose, and I watched as her scowl immediately curled into a wide smile.

"Ah, Rose," she half cooed, half croaked as she made her way towards us, "Will it be the usual for you?"

"Of course not, Val," Rose rolled her eyes, "After all, I _do_ have company," she gestured towards me.

I quickly donned my best charming smile, and the old maid nodded in approval. "A large then. And two beers," she nodded again, then turned to fill two, iced mugs.

"I gotta say," I began as Granny set the mugs in front of us then disappeared towards the kitchen, "I wish I could say I'm surprised - but I'm really fucking not."

"The old bitch is Valerie, the owner - I've known her since I was in goddamn diapers," Rose grinned, and I smirked back before taking a healthy swig of my beer. Heineken. Nice.

"So how the fuck did that lead you to attend her titty bar on the regular?" I questioned between sips.

Rose took a moment to look at me like I was insane. "Uh, I told you. The fucking _wings_."

Wings from Jesus it was, then.

After a few more minutes plus a few more godawful lines from Def Leppard's Most Cliche, the old lady finally returned to set our platter of wings on the counter.

"Eat up," she directed us in an all-too-motherly tone for a goddamn strip club. I snorted._ Only in fucking Forks_. Still, wings were wings, and I didn't hesitate to snatch one from the plate and raise it to my lips.

"Oh, Jesus fuck, Rose," I moaned between bites. My earlier thoughts that Jesus had nothing to do with this shit was dead wrong - these wings were surely descended from Heaven.

"I know right?" she shrugged. We were entirely quiet for a few minutes while we both snarfed down our chicken and beer, AC/DC wailing in the background the entire time.

Once I'd finally had my fill, I turned to see Rose, leaning back in her chair as she sighed lazily.

_It's showtime_, I decided, and I took a deep breath as I reached for my glass.

"So," I started as I sipped casually at my beer, "I have a little problem."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Little?"

"Hah," I deadpanned. "_Anyway_. I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but Cullen has become a regular fucking tree-hopper. Seriously. Shit's crazy."

That caught her attention. She turned towards me immediately, then cocked an eyebrow before asking, "What the fuck do you mean?"

"I mean that his monkey ass has scaled up my tree _twice_ now and shown up in my bedroom in the middle of the fucking night."

Like I knew it would, an evil grin immediately appeared on her face, and I could have sworn I saw her fingers twitch towards the phone in her pocket.

"Oh _really_?" she hedged.

"Yeah. Weird, right?" I prompted as I shrugged my shoulders coolly.

"Yeah, that's a bit douchey, even for him," she nodded as her hand continued to inch towards her phone, "But I don't know too many adolescent fucktards that _wouldn't_ climb a tree just to get a piece of ass, you know?" she grinned.

_Motherfucking bingo_.

"Ass has nothing to do with it," I clarified, and watched with delight as her face fell, her cocky eyebrow furrowing in confusion. Once again, it was glaringly fucking obvious that she was entirely too interested in Cullen's love life. What the hell was _with_ these bitches?

"You haven't fucked him?" Rose asked then, her tone bordering on annoyed. I had to bite back a wicked grin as I shook my head - I had her right where I wanted her.

"Nope. But here's the weird part - every time I try, he runs the fuck out on me. Literally fucking _runs_," I explained, then watched with satisfaction as she grimaced, her fingers immediately returning to the countertop. "He runs like a goddamn girl, by the way," I added for good measure, and Rose sniggered absently for a moment before glancing warily at me.

"I'm assuming that this is your _little problem_, then?" she pried, and I almost couldn't contain my amusement as I discreetly slid the Coach clutch from my purse and placed it on the counter between us.

"Yes and no," I shrugged as I watched her eye the sparkling clutch cautiously. I tapped it meaningfully once, twice, three times, then added, "I was just wondering. . ."

I waited as her gaze lingered on the clutch for another moment before her lips started to twitch at the corners, and I knew she understood.

"What, _exactly_," I emphasized, slowly, "do you think is up with Cullen?"

This was it. She stared at me for a moment, still trying not to smile while I stared her the fuck down. She knew _exactly_ what I was talking about - and I sure as shit knew she had the answer. A moment of silent communication passed through us - each of us acknowledging what couldn't be said in this entire, fucked up situation. And then, with a deep breath, she looked down at the clutch, sighed, then shifted in her seat to plant her eyes on the bar wall in front of her.

"Can't tell ya," she shrugged. "I mean, who am I to explain the mysteries of teenage male psychosis? They're all a bunch of fucking morons, anyway."

"You've _got_ to be shitting me," I nearly fucking growled as I shot her a scathing glare. She didn't respond as she kept staring at the wall in front of her, and I could tell she was trying pretty fucking hard not to smile.

_Godfuckingdamnit__. __GodfuckingdamnitDamnitDAMNIT__!_

I barely resisted the urge to slam my fist on the counter as I, too, turned to stare at the wall. So that was it then. She wasn't going to tell me. Fuck.

I quickly snatched the clutch from the counter and shoved it angrily into my bag. What the fuck did a bitch need to do to catch a fucking _break_ around here?

"Nice," I grumbled as I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms in front of me. "Real fucking nice."

"I like you, Swan," Rose interrupted me suddenly, and I looked over to see her grinning widely at me. "So for what it's worth, listen up," she continued as she leaned conspiratorially towards me. I arched a distrustful eyebrow at her, but quickly decided to fuck it as I leaned slightly towards her.

"Guys like Cullen. . ." she began, then seemed to consider for a moment before adding, "well, they like to be in the _driver's seat_, know what I'm saying?"

The look I shot her pretty clearly said, _Uh, no. Not a fucking clue_.

"What I mean by that," she went on, ignoring my skepticism, "is that Cullen likes to be in control of this sort of shit. He's sort of a fucking pussy that way."

I couldn't help but chuckle quietly - fucking pussy, indeed.

"The point is, all you need to do is let him, you know, _steer_ this shit for a bit. He'll come around," she finished with an annoyingly amused laugh before she turned to face the wall again.

_What the fuck was that_? I really didn't know. What I _did_ know, however, was that Cullen wasn't steering my ass _anywhere_. I _would_ own his ass, no matter _how_ many people were standing in my way.

"We should get going, anyway," Rose said as she stood, gesturing meaningfully towards our tab. I slapped some bills on the counter and stood immediately, still pretty fucking pissed at the entire situation. Rose chuckled once more before leading the way out of the club.

The ride home was really fucking quiet as I stewed in my fury, Rose snickering occasionally from beside me. In all honesty, it seemed like something about our exchange had somehow managed to earn her approval of me, and her smile never faded as she sped towards my house. Obviously, she was one fucked up chick, but I figured I'd take what I could get from this seriously shitty day.

Once we reached my house, we exchanged brief goodbyes before I pushed open the door and hauled ass up the driveway. There was a bottle of Jack beneath my bed with my motherfucking name on it, and I stormed up the stairs quickly before slamming the door behind me. I had no idea if Charlie was home or not, but I sure as shit wasn't ready to find out.

Once I had pulled the Jack from beneath my bed, I slumped against my mattress as I took a deep pull. I had been _so damn sure_ that Rose would spill, and yet here I was, just as fucking clueless as I'd ever been.

I spent the next several hours lounging on my bed as I slowly drained my bottle, contemplating whether or not I should just write Cullen off as a lost cause. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew that I just couldn't fucking do it. Bella Fucking Swan did _not_ back down, _ever_. And last night had definitely been the last straw. _No one_ fucked with me and lived to tell about it.

By nightfall, I was half-drunk and still wholly pissed, and I slammed the near-empty bottle on my nightstand before yanking my clothes off and dressing for bed. I knew that, after today, I was going to have to start kicking ass and taking names if I was ever going cut through the bullshit. And I knew _exactly_ which motherfucker was at the top of my list - because his ass was going to be parked in my driveway, first thing in the fucking morning.

I crawled into bed early that night, eager to put the entire, fucked-up day behind me. Tomorrow would be a new day, and I knew exactly how to start it.

Face-to-face with Edward My-Ass-Is-Fucking-Grass Cullen.

***

By the time I saw the Volvo pull into my driveway the next morning, I was motherfucking ready.

I'd gotten up extra early to spend excessive amounts of time dressing myself to the nines. My hair was perfect, my sweater dress to die for, and I'd surpassed my Choos for a kickass pair of stilletos that clicked pointedly with my every step. I was _not_ fucking around today.

I wasted no time in grabbing my purse before strutting straight out the door, slamming it harshly for extra emphasis. I could hear the entire house rattling from behind me, and I really fucking hoped Cullen could see that shit as I strode confidently towards him, my head held high. Throughout my entire morning, I had mentally tabulated an entire list of ways to handle his ass - most of which were pretty fucking sure to end in bloodshed. But as satisfying as that sounded, I had finally decided on the _one_ tactic that I _knew_ no man could handle.

_Let the motherfucking games begin_, I thought as I yanked open the passenger door.

To my extreme delight, Cullen looked pretty damn nervous as I sat down, then closed the door roughly behind me. His hands were clenched tightly around the steering wheel while he absently bounced one leg against his seat, and his eyes were peeled wide the fuck open as he stared cautiously at me. It was sort of fucking funny, the way his knuckles were white against the wheel as he eyed me like I was a sparking stick of dynamite, but I refused to so much as crack a smile as I put my fucking genius plan into action.

In one, smooth move, I twisted in my seat, then folded my arms across my chest as I leaned back against the car door, staring right the fuck at him.

"So uh . . . good morning. And shit." He was wary and questioning and looked kind of fucking afraid.

And to that I replied. . .with motherfucking _silence_.

"The fuck's wrong with you? Freak pharynx accident? Esophogeal paralysis?" he asked, and I could literally _see_ him straining to remain unaffected by my blatant, piercing stare.

_Nope_. There was _no way_ I was going to let him goad me into answering him. Instead, I continued to glare at him from across the console, remaining completely fucking frozen.

"Well then," he shrugged coolly, but I could see him shifting uncomfortably in his seat as I kept up my scathing stare. And therein lied the genius of my plan - _no man_ could stand dead silence where an infuriated bitch was concerned. It was _almost_ better than a straight up ass kicking - which I still hadn't ruled out completely, by the way - and I could see the pressure already starting to eat at him as he reversed out of the driveway and sped down the road, his free leg continuing to vibrate in his seat.

"What the fuck, Swan?" Edward grumbled at least ten minutes later, after I had _refused_ to move so much as an inch. His nervousness was fucking empowering, and my only response was to narrow my eyes slightly, adding extra heat to my glare. Because goddamnit, this shit was going exactly to plan - there was nothing better than a loaded silence to provoke a teenage boy into copious amounts of verbal diarrhea. And that was exactly what I wanted, so I said nothing as I continued to stare straight at him, just fucking _waiting_ for him to spew.

After another few moments, I could see his anxiety growing really fucking rapidly as he began shooting me furtive glances from the corner of his eye. In all honesty, he looked like he had a goddamn twitch or something, and it was a real testament to my self-control that I didn't start laughing right then and there. But of course, I did nothing, instead letting the dead air of the Volvo hang heavily around us.

By the time we reached the freeway, I could tell he was about to break. The steering wheel between his fingers was groaning in protest, and little beads of sweat were starting to form on his brow as he continued to watch me from his peripheral.

_Any minute now_, I began chanting to myself. _Any minute now that bastard's gonna break_.

And I was right - sort of. It _was_ just a minute later that he finally reacted. But instead of opening his goddamn mouth and spilling like I had hoped, I watched as his hand suddenly shot outwards, his fingers aimed straight at the radio.

_Oh hell the fuck no_.

In a flash, I thrust my arm outwards, slapping his hand with excessive fucking force. The smack that cut through the air as my hand collided with his was fucking brutal, and I _almost_ smiled as he yelped out loud, then snapped his hand away from me to cradle it to his chest.

"Well, now _that_ was unnecessary," he grumbled petulantly, but I refused to so much as crack a smile at his pussy reaction. I mean, did that douchebag seriously think I was going to let him whistle away to some goddamn showtunes or something?

_Silence is golden, fuckface. Eat it._

We sat in scalding stillness for the rest of the drive, and by the time we reached the school, I could tell how unsettled he was - which was fucking golden. But the fact that he hadn't broken down yet irked me, and when he cut the engine, I remained still as stone, absolutely refusing to get out. Edward didn't look at me for a moment, but instead slumped back against his seat, exhaling slowly. With the purr of the engine gone, the silence between us was almost eerie, but I refused to be swayed as I stayed rigid in my seat, glaring at him for all I was worth. Slowly, as if he didn't think I'd fucking notice, I watched him tilt his head to the side, then peek at me from the corner of his eye. My scowl grew instantly deeper, and he quickly snapped his head back, slamming it against the headrest. Still not ready to give up yet, I remained rooted in my spot, watching him through narrowed eyes. But just a few moments later, he fucking tried _again_ - this time dipping his head forward before chancing a glance at me, as if the angle would fucking hide it or some shit.

_Are you fucking kidding me?_

Incensed, I jerked the handle and kicked the door open, then stomped towards the school, leaving his passenger door wide the hell open. I wasn't going to sit around all day and play his childish games - much more of that shit would have had me shoving my fist down his throat via his goddamn scrotum. Plus, I had all day to fuck with him - and hell if I wasn't looking forward to it.

_Hope you brought your game face, asshole. This shit's about to get heavy_.

***

"_Attention all students, please report to the gym for your next class period, where The Forks High Debate Team will be hosting their last debate of the semester. Again, all students, please report to the gym for your next scheduled class period_."

I groaned as the announcement cut through the overhead, static and all. A fucking _debate_? Seriously?

I supposed though, that it was kind of a lucky break - in some, sick way. After all, my next class would have been Biology, where I would have had to sit next to Cullen for an entire hour as I resisted the urge to rip his aggravatingly gorgeous hair straight out of his skull. I had spent the entirety of my morning concocting some pretty entertaining ways to rip my answers clean the fuck out of him - using my bare hands, of course. But doing that shit in the middle of Biology probably wouldn't have been the best course of action, and I shrugged as I made my way towards the gym.

Once I got there, the first thing I noticed was, of course, Jasper. He was propped against the wall at the very top of the bleachers, wearing one of those old rounded cowboy hats and looking like he just walked off the set of some fucking western. And, because he's fucking Jasper, there was a guitar in his lap, and I watched for a moment as he strummed lazily away. Fucking. Jasper.

Alice, like always, was right beside him, and as soon as she spotted me, began to wave her arms frantically in my direction. I rolled my eyes, but nodded my head in her direction as I began my ascent up the stairs.

And that was when I saw it.

Three rows down and four sections across from us was fucking Cullen - talking to none other than Mother. Fucking. _Stanley_.

Rage washed instantly through me, and I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists as I continued to stomp up the bleachers, shooting death glares at them the entire fucking way. Jasper was the first to notice, and immediately began plucking the beginning riff to Iron Man.

_Veeeery fucking funny_.

But even _that_ wasn't enough to deter my attention from the way The Pubic Bitch was sliding her slimy fucking fingers down Cullen's arm. To his credit, he looked a little disgusted, but that didn't deter my fury as she took another step towards him, seriously invading his personal goddamn space.

"Somethin' got yer panties in a bunch, puddin'?" Jasper asked once I had reached the top of the stairs, his mouth curved into a sly grin as I continued to glare down at Cullen, utterly fucking enraged.

But I didn't get a chance to answer.

Because right at that moment, somebody tapped my motherfucking shoulder.

I whipped around immediately, but instantly regretted it as I found myself scowling down at none other than fucking Mike Newton.

_Jesus Christ, I do not have the patience for this shit right now_. . .

"Um hi, Bella," he began nervously, either really fucking stupid or totally oblivious to my seething glare.

"What the hell do you want, Mike?" I cut in instantly as I shot another furtive glance towards Cullen. Sure enough, Stanley was practically hanging on him now, and I felt bile rise in my throat as I watched her drag her fat fucking fingers down his chest.

"God, Bella," Mike answered, stunned. "I was just going to ask if you wanted to go to the Winter Formal with me?"

"Do I _look_ like I would go to the dance with you, shithead?" I demanded, keeping one eye glued to Stanley's endangered ass. I knew I was being unfair, but goddamnit, now was _not_ the time.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Newton's face turn red as he pursed his lips angrily.

"You know, Bella," he began with way too much petulance, and I jerked my head towards him as I arched one of my eyebrows, _daring_ him to continue. And because he was two tiny liquor bottles short of a mini bar, he did.

"You're not as hot as you think you are. I see the way you're always eyeing Cullen like a piece of meat. I mean, you obviously can't even bed the biggest manwhore in school!"

A fucking _homicidal_ rage swept through me, so strongly that I literally shuddered, and I knew in that moment that I just. . .couldn't fucking take any more.

Before I had time to even think straight, my hand shot outward, my fist colliding with his nose. The force of my swing combined with my vantage point at the top of the bleachers sent him stumbling backwards, and I watched with a satisfied sneer as he began tumbling ass over elbows down the steps.

Never one to miss an opportunity, I heard Jasper begin to pluck the unmistakable first notes of Eye of the Tiger as I took off after that fucking lame-haired douchebag, cracking my heels deliberately against every step.

_Dun. . .dun dun dun. . ._

"What was that, _Newton_?" I nearly screamed as I stormed down the stairs, following his tangle of limbs as he rolled down the remaining steps and landed on the gymnasium floor with a thud. The entire room had gone strangely quiet, but I couldn't seem to lower my voice as I continued to stomp towards him, death radiating from my eyes.

"I didn't quite hear you while your fucking face was stuck to my fist, _Newton_. Would you like to _fucking repeat yourself, NEWTON?!_" I thundered as I reached him, still sprawled flat on the floor. He looked up at me, his eyes wide, mouth hanging open, and I noticed with devilish delight that there was a smear of blood beneath his nose. He immediately scrambled to his feet, but remained way too fucking close to me as he gaped in astonishment.

"Say it again, Newton," I almost whispered, my voice deadly calm as I nudged his foot with the heel of my stilleto. "Do it."

"Jesus Christ, Bella!" he almost whimpered as he stared at me, dumbstruck, and for a moment, I thought I'd finally managed to get my point across.

But then, he tacked on the words that just sealed the fucking deal.

"You're such a _bitch_!"

I felt the maniacal grin spread across my face as I cocked my fist back and let loose, allowing my knuckles to slam against the side of his jaw with all my fucking force. Newton's head whipped instantly sideways, and as I watched, he fell back against the floor, out fucking cold. But at the exact moment that his head smacked against the ground, I heard teacher's whistles blaring as the entire gymnasium erupted into chaos, and I figured it was probably time for me to haul ass out of there.

I was extremely fucking pleased to hear several cat calls and wolf whistles following me as I stepped quickly towards the exit, then pushed through the doors and ran for the parking lot. The fact that I had no ride didn't exactly escape my notice, but the adrenaline pumping through my system just didn't give a shit as I kept moving forward. I'd hide in the fucking trees if I had to.

"You sure are movin' fast for such a pedestrian woman," a voice suddenly called from behind me in an over exaggerated Southern drawl, and I turned to see Jasper strolling lazily towards me, cowboy hat still hanging over his eyes, completely unaffected by the staff members that were surely looking for me.

"Jasper? What are you doing?" I asked, surprised and sort of breathless.

"Why, what sort of Southern gentleman would I be if I didn't rescue a destitute damsel every now and then?" he said with widened eyes. "And so concerning myself with your vehicular pursuits or rather, lack thereof, I took it upon myself to see to your well-bein'. Well, that and I thought you might faceplant on the concrete, and such reconstructive methods would not behoove such a pretty face," he chuckled. He paused as he considered for a moment, then nodded before tossing me his keys. "Go on and get in, pumpkin' - I'll be right there."

I caught the keys swiftly, wincing as I began to notice a throbbing pain in my hand. It looked like Newton's nose wasn't the only thing that was possibly fucking broken.

Jasper tipped his hat and grinned knowingly at me before ducking into the building to his left, only a little unsteady on his feet, and I wasted no time as I turned to dash towards the parking lot. I found his Riviera easily, of course, and silently thanked God for his drunk ass before jumping inside.

Once the door was shut behind me, I closed my eyes as I tried to relax against the seat. I was still way too tense - especially considering the fact that I had just emptied most of my rage on Newton's fucking face. But as soon as my eyes closed, my head began swimming with images of Stanley plastering herself all the fuck over Cullen, and I growled in aggravation before knocking my head repeatedly back against the headrest.

"Because I appreciate a pretty girl sprawled all over my vehicle just as much as the next man, it pains me to inform you that a concussion would most likely not be in your best interest at this juncture, darlin'," Jasper interrupted in that over-pronounced twang as he opened the driver's door, and I wondered why it sounded so fucking familiar. I could have sworn I heard that exact speech inflection before, but I knew I'd never heard it from Jasper. I gasped as something cold plopped suddenly into my lap. My eyes bolted open, and I looked down to see a bag of frozen tator tots settled against my thighs.

"Oh, fucking thank _God_," I mumbled as I shoved the icy bag onto my throbbing hand.

"I am a superb specimen, but don't deify me just yet," Jasper grinned, and I snorted before smiling in his direction.

"Thanks Jasper," I sighed.

"Why, Bella, you are most certainly welcome," he winked before throwing the car in reverse.

"_Bella_!" I heard my name suddenly echoing across the parking lot, and I whipped around to see none other than motherfucking Cullen, darting through the cars, heading straight for us.

"Oh Jesus Christ," I mumbled.

"Now, now," Jasper quipped, "I just waxed my vehicle, and I'd just as soon not be smited in it, if you please." I rolled my eyes before turning back to him.

"Go, Jasper, just go," I sighed, shooting a furtive glance at Edward, still dashing towards us. He really did run like a fucking girl.

"Well alright," he nodded before punching the gas, "but only because it's funnier this way." The big engine roared and a few seconds later, we were speeding towards the freeway. I sighed as I let my eyes close again, trying to shake off the image of Cullen's gay ass running towards us. What the fuck could that bastard _possibly_ want now?

"Darlin' it has to be said," Jasper spoke as we merged onto the freeway, and I cracked one eye open to peer over at him. "You are one intimidating, tiny little woman."

I snickered as I let my eye slide closed again. "Thanks, Jas."

But right at that moment, I heard the last fucking sound I would have _ever_ expected.

"_Bella!_" my name floated from outside again, along with the unmistakable screech of feedback. _Oh my fucking God_. . .

I jerked around immediately, and was stunned to see the fucking Volvo speeding behind us, a goddamn _megaphone_ hanging out the driver's window.

"_God damn it, Jasper! Pull the fuck over!_" I heard Cullen's voice cut through the air, and my jaw dropped as I turned to Jasper in astonishment.

"What in the holy _hell_?!" I nearly shrieked, just completely fucking stunned. "A fucking _megaphone_?"

"Oh. Well. About that," Jasper smiled sheepishly, "I may have indirectly supplied our dear boy with such an instrument. . ."

"Oh, _hell_," I repeated as I threw my arms up in the air, then winced as my hand screamed in protest.

Thankfully, we reached our exit then, and Jasper pulled off the freeway and zoomed through the yellow light, leaving Cullen parked at the red. I sighed in relief as I watched the Volvo disappear in my side mirror, then settled back against my seat.

"Is he fucking _insane_, Jasper?" I asked seriously as I slid my eyes toward him again.

"Why, my darlin' Bella. Aren't we all?" was Jasper's amused reply, and I couldn't help but chuckle as I nodded slightly.

"True facts," I nodded.

A few minutes later, we finally reached Charlie's house, and I shot Jasper a weak smile before grabbing the door handle.

"Thanks Jas," I nodded. He smiled easily as he tipped his ridiculous cowboy hat in my direction, and I laughed softly before stepping out of the car.

Of course, I had only made it about three fucking steps up the driveway before the sound of screeching tires stopped me in my tracks.

_God grant me the motherfucking serenity. . .because I sure as hell can't handle much more of this shit. . ._

"Bella!" I heard Cullen calling, and turned unwillingly to see him scrambling out of his car. "Jesus, are you fucking deaf?"

I spun to face him immediately, glaring potently as I warned him, "Do not fuck with me right now, asshole. In case you didn't notice, I _did_ just lay a motherfucker out with _one_ hand. And I'm _more_ than ready for a repeat performance."

"Christ, Swan," he muttered as he approached me, then stopped to whip his hand through his hair. "I knew you were pissy this morning, but fuck!"

"Strike one, fucker," I spat.

"Well, my darlin' Ms. Swan and unfortunate sir," we heard Jasper call from his car, and we both turned to quirk an eyebrow at him. "As riveting as this little rendezvous is sure to be, it is most assuredly a dance for two and if I thought I was the third wheel . . . why, I just don't know if I could bear it." He grinned at us from beneath his goofy fucking hat, and we watched as he pulled a cigarillo from his shirt pocket, stuck it between his lips, then reversed out of the driveway. Cullen and I both shook our heads in silence before turning back to each other.

"Look," Edward began as he eyed me carefully. "Would you just fucking talk? You know - _without_ the assistance of your fists of fury?"

"Strike two, Cullen. It was _one_ fist. Get your facts straight," I gloated as I crossed my arms over my chest, carefully hiding my . "And if it's a therapy session you want, you're at the wrong fucking house," I scoffed as I turned to leave. But because I just couldn't stop myself, I glanced over my shoulder to add, "I'm sure that _Stanley_ would be happy to lend a fucking ear." I smirked as Cullen's jaw dropped, then proceeded towards my front door.

Until I heard the _one_ sound that changed _everything_.

Cullen snorted. He fucking _snorted_.

That motherfucker. . .was _laughing_ at me.

"Are you _jealous_, Swan?" he called to me, and I froze mid-step.

A lethal calm spread through my entire body as I listened to him chuckling behind me, and I knew I had officially fucking _had it_.

Ridiculously slowly, I turned to face him again, then began sauntering back to him, a fake smile plastered on my face.

"Jealous, Cullen? _Me_?" I replied with an innocent lilt as I felt my rage boiling to the surface. My entire body seemed to be on fire, anger just _throbbing_ straight through my veins, but I kept my smile locked in place as I leaned towards him.

"Let me tell you something, Swan, if you'd use half your fucking devious brains to see what's right in front of your fucking infuriating beautiful face, you might - "

"No, Cullen, let me tell _you_ something," I half-sang once my face was inches from his. Cullen's laughter immediately died in his throat, and I saw his eyes widen in realization.

But it was too late.

"Strike three," I whispered.

Using my good hand, I shot my arm outward and whipped my palm across his face, reveling in the satisfying _SMACK_ that tore through the air. Cullen's face jerked instantly sideways, but he didn't move as his jaw tightened briefly before turning back to me.

His nostrils flared and his eyes flashed up to me, dark and angry and blazing with some emotion that I couldn't quite place. They were swimming with _something_, but I had no idea what and was too pissed to care.

He cursed a foul fucking string of expletives that almost made _me_ blush and brought his fingers to the corner of his mouth to test for blood, then stared at them confusedly when they came away red and shiny. His eyes were wide when they came up to me and his voice was low and gritty, like I'd only heard when . . . well . . . before, and I couldn't tell if he was hurt or enraged. But as I continued to glare definitely at him, still steaming mad, he just nodded at me solemnly and said, "Well fuck. Guess I had it coming."

His pink tipped tongue slipped out and tested the corner of his mouth and he smirked grimly before staring at me once more, hard, and turning on his heel.

Then he strode away from me without looking back.

As I watched him go, I became suddenly aware of my own, ragged breathing and the way my blood was pounding in my ears. The sound was fucking _deafening_, and I couldn't even hear the Volvo as it took off down the street, fishtailing slightly around the corner. But as I stood there, feeling pretty fucking justified while I stared angrily at the spot where the stupid car had disappeared, a strange, sick feeling swept over my chest, and my breath hitched slightly as I spun on my heels. Before I knew it, I was in a full-on sprint, dashing madly towards my house. I didn't stop as I threw open the front door, then slammed it behind me before flying up the stairs and darting into my room.

As soon as I was safely hidden in my bedroom, I let myself sink to the floor, crumpling into a pathetic pile as I let my forehead rest against my knees. A dry sob threatened to claw up my throat, but I bit that shit back as I cursed the day Cullen was ever born.

My pride was wounded and my hand was throbbing painfully.

But for some reason, all I could concentrate on was the heavy, churning feeling in my chest as I replayed the dead look that had seeped into Cullen's eyes as the first drop of blood had dripped down his chin.

_What the fuck is wrong with me_?

* * *

**We're taking bets (because we don't learn by example) - what do you think is coming next?**


End file.
